


Trials of Innocence

by mwagner3



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt Jughead Jones, I might add on later, Jughead Jones Whump, Non-Graphic Smut, Prison, Prisoner abuse, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2020-09-06 10:11:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 28,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20289754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mwagner3/pseuds/mwagner3
Summary: Jughead makes another deal with Hiram Lodge. Only this time, the deal involves spending some time behind bars in Hiram's personal prison. What will happen to Jughead when Hiram wants to keep adding onto the deal? Will Jughead survive?





	1. Prologue

_The summer before junior year for most students is spent living completely responsibility free. Hanging around Sweetwater River trying to endure the sticky, dry heat is what summer is for. Summer is for savoring a soft-serve cone and devouring it before it melts under the sun. Summer is for enjoying time with your friends when you have nothing that you have to do and nowhere you have to go. Summer is usually the best time of the year. However, the summer of our junior year in Riverdale was spent trying to prove our friend’s innocence._

_We would’ve given anything for that carefree summer. We would’ve given anything for Archie Andrews to not be on trial for murder. We would’ve given anything to keep the rest of our family and friends safe. I know I would do anything for my family and friends who’ve become a part of my chosen family. _

_All of us were innocent yet guilty in our own ways. That wasn’t a strange feeling in Riverdale. The town beneath the town was always hiding something. Someone was always guilty of something; however, the strange thing about proving someone’s innocence in a murder trial is that usually someone else ends up under the knife._


	2. What I Can Do

**Jughead**

Sitting in a hot, stifling court room is something I will only do for a friend. I’m not an optimistic usually, but I have been listening to the attorney’s arguments praying that things will go right for once. The pessimist in me sees the dogged determination and undeniable power that Hiram Lodge has in this case. He wants Archie to go to jail, and realistically if Hiram is behind this like I’m betting he is, Archie is doomed.

I wish we could all be at Sweetwater swimming hole like we had discussed. Even getting covered in leeches would be better than this. The Judge has just called us back into the room and we await news with bated breaths. Hopefully, the jury saw the truth and realized that Archie is innocent. 

We don’t have to wait long as the Judge sits down in his ‘throne’. “The jury is still deliberating, but I’ve dismissed them. They are sequestered, and I’ve instructed them not to read anything about this case, nor to discuss it with anyone. We’ll reconvene Tuesday morning after Labor Day. My advice to you young man is to spend this weekend with your family and your loved ones. That’s all.” The Judge strikes his gavel and the trial is finished. For now.

Everyone in the room piles out the doors conversing about the strangeness of this abrupt pause in the case among many other subjects. Mary Andrews and Veronica Lodge whisper words of encouragement to one another. They have more time to figure out a defense, and are planning to use every second to find any justification they can to protect Archie. I walk out of the room hand in hand with Betty. I can tell she is exhausted. She needs a break only a resolution to this case can give her. I can’t give her that, but I can give her me. I will sit and listen. I will do whatever she needs me to do and be whatever she needs me to be. I will be a comforter, a confidant, a servant to her as long as she needs me. I will be there for her. I look back towards Archie to see whether he is alone only to hear Hiram Lodge’s voice say “Hey, Archie, have a terrific weekend.”

I turn towards the voice to see an incredibly therapeutic moment as Hiram is punched by Fred Andrews. I know we will all remember that for years to come. That may not be a good thing though. Seeing Hiram get hit is an amazing moment, but Hiram also has a long memory and can apparently hold a grudge even against a teenager. What will he do with his power? What can’t he do when he is pissed? That is what I’m afraid of. That is what I plan to find out. Things can’t possibly get worse.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Things got worse.

I never realized how hard being Serpent King would be when I took the job. Penny Peabody has just declared war on the entire north side and now Betty is a target. As if worrying about my best friend and trying to be a good leader hasn’t already been keeping me up a night now I have something even greater keeping my insomnia present. I can’t do much to help Archie, so I try to focus on what I can do.

I pace the length of my trailer trying to come up with my options. None of my choices are great. Nothing I can think of can stop Penny. The only person who has ever had any control over her has been Hiram Lodge, and the man has been the devil incarnate lately. There is no way he would agree to talking Penny into doing anything for me.

Hiram. If only he wasn’t in Riverdale all my problems would be over (okay, most of my problems). I mull over the possibility of taking him out myself for a split second, but that’s not an option. Even if I could get near him enough to kill him, I’m not a killer. Besides, Veronica is my friend, and she would never forgive me for killing her father. I have to come up with something else.

I let lose a sigh. I start to list the people I care about hoping to calm my nerves; Archie, Betty, Dad, Jellybean, even Veronica makes the list. The list has gotten longer in the last couple of years. I never would’ve thought that it would one day include a girl who had been to Met Galas, but being with Betty has changed me. I’m no longer the loner I once was. I’m no longer the guy in the corner wanting to shrink down in my seat when my peers from class walk in like I used to do when I was a kid.

Now, I’m the guy trying to fix things. If only I could. I think about the last time I had tried to solve things on my own. I’d given myself to the Ghoulies and things turned out terribly. At least it had been my decision to give myself over. I’ve thought about that moment a lot. When I walked straight to the enemy and got my ass kicked. I even remember what Penny said that night. She had said that getting rid of me was more important to Hiram than entire serpent annihilation. I wonder if he still wants me. Maybe there is something I can do.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I’m welcomed into Hiram’s study with less than open arms. More like open hostility as I was almost rejected at the door of the Pembrooke. Either Hiram doesn’t want guests or he has something to hide. Probably both. This man sitting before me controls so much of my town. Confidence radiates out of him like a lion on pride rock. This is his town and he knows it; although, he genuinely seems curious when he sees me. His brows furrow as he speaks, “Mr. Jones, what a surprise. What can I do for you?”

What can he do for me? He can jump off a cliff or put a bullet in his head. The town of Riverdale would be grateful for me to say that as would the part of my brain that loves sarcasm, but I don’t say anything of the sort. Instead I jump straight to the point, “I would like to make another deal.”

I wait for the volley of remarks I’m sure will come and instead am greeted by actual interest.

He inclines his head. “I’m listening.”

“Archie; I know you’re behind his arrest. You have more pull in that area then I would like to admit. And Penny; you control her.”

“Get to the point, Jughead. What is it that you want? And bear in mind that in order to get you have to give.”

“I want Archie free and I want Betty safe from Penny.”

He laughs, “Really? What you want is a big ask.”

I shake my head. “Never mind, you’re never going to give it to me.”

“Hold up, Jughead. I didn’t say I wouldn’t give you what you want.” He stands up and walks around his desk, “The question is: what are you willing to give in return for such a big favor?”


	3. Giving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was off work today, so I thought that I would do some writing. I do have to work for a week straight after this though, so I won't be able to add another chapter for a couple days more than likely. I will try though.   
Hope you all enjoy, and as always let me know what you think.

**Jughead**

My friends and I had decided to go to the swimming hole in one last ditch effort to enjoy summer before the end of Archie’s trial. It had been a great day where we didn’t have to worry about term papers that might have been eaten by a dog and the words guilt and innocence had been banished from our vocabularies. Try as we might those terms have lingered in the back of our minds every day during the trial, but this day they were completely gone as friends enjoyed being friends; a freedom that cannot be overshadowed as we had finally given ourselves permission to enjoy ourselves. And after such a wonderful day we had all decided to split off as couples to embrace a liberty only certain intimacy can bring. I know exactly how Veronica and Archie are spending their time, and not for the first time I am glad Betty and I are alone.

I breathe in deeply the smell of fresh air, and the aroma of roasted marshmallows. My stomach is still full from eating my share of the chocolaty goodness that is s’mores. I don’t know how many I ate, but I allowed myself to have as many as I wanted. I allowed myself to take in a little bit of freedom.

I take in the view from the night sky. The millions of beautiful stars spread across the galaxy are like fireflies lighting up the heavens. They dazzle the world below as the jewels of the sky. These jewels of the night have nothing on the gorgeous girl next to me though. She is my world.

“I’m not ready for summer to be over. I don’t think I can handle it” she looks at me the blue in her eyes standing out in the light of the fire.

“What do you mean? Sure you can.” I place my hand on hers, rubbing my thumbs in slow circles across her skin hoping to provide some sort of comfort.

“Jug, this summer I haven’t stopped or slept a wink working on Archie’s case. I’ve barely looked up since May. My mom and Polly think that I’ve been hiding or avoiding and they’re right. Maybe I should stop taking Adderall and start seeing a therapist for real. Either way come Tuesday it will all be over, and I’ll have to face everything. Everything that has happened. Everything that will happen. All these things that I don’t have control over they terrify me.”

As she speaks a pull in my gut starts to gnaw at me. I was going to tell her the truth tonight. My mind had been made up; that is until this moment. How can I tell her the truth? How can I break her even more? I can’t, so I lie to her. “Betty, we’re going to get through it. From now on, we’re partners. In serpents. In life. All of it, okay?”

I need her to realize how important she is to me, so I place my beanie, my security blanket, on her head. She smiles at me understanding the vulnerability I am placing in her hands. I trust her completely, and I know she feels the same way. All the time that we have spent together has taught me that.

I lean forward placing my lips on hers. We kiss softly, her lips responding to mine eagerly. She kisses me back with such hunger and winds her hands into my hair. I’m in love with her, and I don’t just stay with her out of some obligation or because there is no one else available. Every day I wake up I reaffirm my choice. With every action I choose her, and she chooses me.

I trail my hands down her shoulders to her back, feeling every curve of her body down to her thighs. I play with the edge of her shirt. She responds by grabbing the material herself and pulling upwards. I help her as best as I can to get the fabric off without breaking contact of our lips for more than a split second. She is so beautiful. My self-control is wavering and my shirt comes off just as easily as hers does. Her hands grip my shoulders and trails down my back digging her nails in. She knows exactly what to do as my body responds to her touch like magic. I moan against her lips and grasp her hips to pull her on top of me as we fall backwards onto the ground. 

With every second my heartbeat increases. Our bodies become feverish as we become even more desperate for each other. We hunger for more as each piece of clothing is shed until there is nothing between us; skin on skin. There is nothing more intimate. We have memorized every inch of each other, and I wish this moment could last forever.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

We sit in the boiling court room once again anxiously awaiting the answer to the precarious fate of Archibald Andrews. The only difference between me and my friends is that I know what is about to happen. There is no fear in my mind that Archie may be arrested. There is no impatience at the decision of others. There is only a desire to make this moment last as I grip Betty’s hand probably a little tighter than I should, but Betty doesn’t say a word as I hold onto her hand as if it is a life line. She doesn’t know what I know. She can never know that the tight clutch on her hand isn’t about Archie. For me, all that remains is the peace of knowing that Archie will be proven innocent, and the woman beside me will be safe.

I can hear my heart beating inside my ears. Once Archie is saved I will have to pay up my part of the deal. It won’t be easy. Not in this room. Not when Betty is right next to me, but having her beside me reminds me of why I made the deal. She gives me courage.

The Judge walks in and sits down. “The jury has made a decision.” He announces only to be interrupted by the doors in the back swinging open and a voice as clear as day calling out. “Wait.”

Heads turn as if on a swivel immediately to the man entering the room. Sheriff Minetta, as imposing as ever, strides into the room like a man on a mission. “Your honor, new evidence has come to light. Mr. Andrews cannot be tried for the murder of Cassidy Bullock as what we found leads us to believe someone else did it.”

This is the moment I was waiting for. The reality of the deal I had made starts to come to fruition as Sheriff Minetta comes to a stop and turns his steely gaze to me. “Mr. Jones, stand up. You’re under arrest for the murder of Cassidy Bullock.”

Gasps echo from around the room. Nobody it seems had expected this turn of events. Accept me.

I release Betty’s hand as I obey. She seems to be as shell-shocked as the rest of the crowd or at least I think that she is until she stands up and yells, “You can’t take him! Jughead didn’t do anything!”

Guilt overwhelms me when I hear the panic in her voice. I caused this.

“I can and I will, Mrs. Cooper.” He forcibly turns me around and pulls my hands behind my back slipping cuffs tightly around my wrists. “Move.”

I start to step forward a bit, only to stop, as Betty maneuvers in front of us blocking the way out. “You can’t take him! I won’t let you take him!”

“If you know what’s good for you, back down.” Sheriff Minetta orders the threat heavy in his tone. 

She doesn’t move out of the way. She stands her ground and an ounce of admiration for her goes through me. She is amazing for trying to help. Granted this is the one situation that I wish she would be able to hold herself back.

Veronica comes to her side. “Betty, you have to let him go. Everything will be sorted out later, I promise. We can’t have you getting charged with obstruction.”

Once in a while Veronica says words of wisdom that I never forget, but I have never wanted Betty to follow through with her best friends wishes more than in this moment. _Please, Betty, listen to her_. She doesn’t.

She still doesn’t move. She has to move or she will get in trouble.

“Betty, it’s okay.” I plead as my eyes find hers, “Look at me, Betty. Everything will be okay, but you have to move. Please. I’m begging you. Don’t get in trouble.”

Relief floods through me as she looks as though she is finally contemplating her actions. Her eyes flicker between the Sheriff and me multiple times. Just as I think she might step aside she moves towards me instead of away. I stiffen wondering what she is about to do only to relax a second later as she wraps her arms around me and whispers, “I love you, Jug. I will get you out of this.”

“I know. You don’t give up that easily. It’s one of the many reasons why I love you too, Betty Cooper.”


	4. The House of Hiram Lodge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kind comments and patience. This chapter took longer than I thought it would. I ended up rewriting it several times trying to get it right. I hope you all like it. It is a short chapter, but hopefully I can post another up soon.

**Jughead**

The shackles I’m wearing rattle as I walk along the corridor of my new ‘home’, The Lodge Detention Center. This was a part of my deal to; that every second inside this prison I will remain chained. The metal on my ankles and wrists shift slightly every step I take rubbing against my skin. Given a few weeks I imagine the flesh will be throbbing even more.

Powerful hands grip my arm, tugging me down the hallway and into a giant room filled with prison cells. The only time I had seen anything like this was on television shows as I had never been past the visitors section of a prison before. I had no idea what I was in for until now. A tiny amount of fear trickles into my brain as I start to realize a small portion of what I had agreed to. Rows upon rows of actual criminals will be waiting to take out the king of the serpents, and in a place like this it might not be hard.

“Open up on 40”, the guard with me shouts aloud as he leads me down the path to the cell.

The prison cell I will now call home is barely ten by eight feet. The walls inside are painted a depressing grey color with the only opening having thick metal bars. There is no light bulb inside, so the only light illuminating the cell comes from the bigger room housing about a hundred or more different cells of the same structure. And if that doesn’t seem dismal enough, the sleeping arrangements are bunk beds. _Great_, I would be sharing with someone. _Just what I always wanted._

In the corner is a toilet bowl, unclean and overused; completely out in the open. Privacy is nonexistent here. It seems like every bit of this place was designed to hold one back from freedom, but also to make a person forget they were even human. Don’t get me started on the intake process I had to go through.

The guard glares at me and says, “Mr. Lodge said to make you feel comfortable.”

A chill runs down my spine at the tonality in his words as I step forward into the cell. With the guard at my back and my hands bound I feel vulnerable in a way I never have before; trapped by the demons of this place bent on doing Hiram’s bidding. I shouldn’t be at all surprised when an agonizing pain hits me in the back of the head so hard I drop to the floor. My head spins and I have no time to try to even block the next attack as the guard strikes me with his baton over and over causing waves of pain throughout my body. I grit my teeth trying to block out the feeling in my chest as the guard's booted foot slams into my rib cage causing me to cry out from my spot on the floor. It’s all I can do to curl up into a ball and endure.

The brutal assault lasts only about five minutes, yet it leaves my entire body aching. My nose is trailing dark crimson across my throbbing face, and I can only guess the rest of the damage the guard left me with as the rest of my energy leaves me and darkness overtakes me. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always let me know what you think, and if you want something specific let me know. I already have most of my story planned out so far, but I can try to fit something in if you really want it.


	5. They Did What?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first chapter from Betty's perspective. I really hope that you all like it.

**Betty**

“They accused Jughead of what?” FP yells while pacing the floor of the trailer looking like he wants to put someone through a wall. A completely understandable reaction to what we had just told him.

The moment I had heard of Jug’s arresting I have felt sick to my stomach, but I can’t imagine there being a pain worse than what it feels like to be a parent who has gotten the same news.

As it is, I can barely get the words out through my dry throat, “They arrested him for Cassidy’s murder saying that they found new evidence.”

“What new evidence? This case is months old and they’re only now pointing a finger at him.” FP continues walking back and forth practically frothing at the mouth with rage.

I understand his anger. Jughead doesn’t deserve to be arrested for something I know for a fact he didn’t do. I will prove his innocence and get him home if it’s the last thing I do. I stand up from my spot on the couch, unable to stay seated. My nervous energy forcing motion out of me causes me to pace next to FP in the little room of the trailer. Even though, I know they care, Veronica and Archie stay seated. It’s just as well. There is barely enough space for two people to pace the floor in this place.

“It does seem unlikely. Even with Archie they didn’t have proof.” Veronica points out.

“Only false testimony from unreliable witnesses.” Archie says finishing her thought.

“That’s the thing I don’t get. What evidence could they have that they didn’t already analyze? And what evidence could take away from their quote unquote ‘reliable witnesses’? It makes me think…” I trail off, hesitant to reveal a thought I’m unsure of.

Veronica looks up at me and questions, “What are you thinking, B?”

“I think….they don’t have evidence.” I run my hands through my hair. “I think that for some reason someone wants him to take the blame.”

“How would they do that though? Without evidence they won’t be able to convict him? There would be no point.” Archie asks.

I can’t help shake the feeling that I’m right; although, my best friend does have a point. What does someone have to gain by putting Jughead in jail when he will be proven innocent? I wrack my brain trying to think.

“I’m not sure.” I shake my head before turning to Mr. Jones. “Please, tell me you have a plan.”

“First things first, Betty. We get him released on bail. Then we can go through the possibilities with him.”

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The Sheriff’s station is not crowded at all, which is not unusual for a summer day. I should know. I’ve been here many times for my investigations. I’ve also had my fair share of dealing with annoying officers who want to ‘follow the rules’ and not let me anywhere near places I’m not supposed to go. Honestly, I was just trying to ask a murder suspect a question. Jeez.

The guy at the front counter today; however, is starting to get on my nerves. He seems to be the only person stopping us from seeing Jughead. I am about to yell at him myself even though I realize he’s probably just the messenger, and he’s doing his job. Blah. Blah. Blah. I want to see Jughead!

Then he tells us something that has me even more pissed. “We can’t release him.”

“What do you mean you won’t release him?” FP shouts at the officer.

“Yeah, even I got bail. Why can’t he?” Archie asks what we all believe to be a perfectly reasonable question.

“Well, even though you were accused of the same crime, Mr. Jones, has completely different….how do you say it? Situations? Circumstances?” The officer looks back down at his paperwork and continues to write something.

He didn’t need to say it. The situations and circumstances that set Jughead apart from Archie are simple. Jughead is from the south side and the town of Riverdale is run on prejudices decades old. Not to mention the fact that everyone believes that the serpents are a gang of law breakers no matter how many times they have proved differently. How can they think this is right? My temper sparks just at the thought. They won’t let him go because of this.

I force myself to try to remain calm; at least on the outside. On the inside it feels like a dozen bees are buzzing around.

I lean onto the desk in front of the officer and look at his name tag. “Officer Roberto is it? I know Jughead like I know the back of my hand. He wouldn’t run.”

“I didn’t say he would, but-”

“But, what? If that’s not the reason why you’re withholding bail tell us why. Why can’t you jackasses let my son out?” FP glares at the man as his voice rises.

Officer Roberto finally looks up to give us his full attention. “He’s the leader of a gang; therefore, he has resources most people wouldn’t. The court is worried that he would use his connections to run.”

“I told you already, he won’t run.” I retort, as the undercurrent of my anger ramps up a notch. Didn’t this stupid guy listen to me? I wasn’t speaking in tongues!

“I heard you, the court didn’t; however, even if they did they can’t trust words. According to the Judge, who denied his bail, there are other reasons.”

“Then name them.” Veronica crosses her arms in front of her.

“He has a history of going against the system. It says here that he wrote an article about the injustice of the correction system.”

I answer back, “That was an assignment given to us by Principal Weatherbee. It was Jughead’s idea to write it from that angle, but he only did so because Mr. Jones here had been wrongly accused of murder.”

Officer Roberto adds, “Like father like son, eh?”

Mr. Jones scowls at him before pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. I can tell he is having a hard time holding back from this guy. We all are. We probably are even sharing the same murderous looks. I know the comment the officer made makes me want to rip him into shreds. He is very lucky that we all have even a sliver of self-control left.

Apparently, the officer read the room and got the message. “Sorry. I also see here that he was in a center years ago for attempting to burn down a school. The court knew that even if it is sealed in Mr. Jones’ juvenile record. This record is also a reason stated.” 

“That’s complete crap. Jughead, started that fire by accident. He even pulled the alarm himself trying to make sure nobody got hurt. They didn’t by the way. The fire was contained in a trash can that the matches he had been playing with had been tossed into.” Archie defends his friend while going down memory lane, and I am reminded of why he is my best friend. He truly is the definition of a modern knight in shining armor and a good friend.

“Well, as I already told you there will be no bail for this case. I can’t help you even if I wanted to. Besides, he’s not here. He’s already been processed.”

“Processed, where?” I close my eyes wishing the answer isn’t as bad as I think it will be.

He looks down at the computer in front of him. “The Lodge Detention Center.”

The first person to voice what we are all thinking is Mr. Jones. “That’s a prison. He’s sixteen!”

My fists close inward on themselves subconsciously at the thought.

“The Lodge Detention Center doesn’t even have a juvenile section. Why there?” Veronica looks down at the floor while saying this. The thought that Jughead is in her father’s prison eats at her like it does me.

Of course, I don’t blame her. The Lodge Detention Center is her dad’s property not hers. I place a hand on her shoulder, “It’s not your fault, V”.

She looks up at me with thanks in her eyes as the officer continues his ‘explanation’. “Normally, he would be in a jail awaiting trial, but there are simply no openings.”

“That doesn’t explain why he is in an ADULT prison. I want to talk to your boss.” Mr. Jones demands.

Veronica nods her head. “Or better yet, we can talk to my dad, V. He owns it. I’m sure he can get them to do something.”

I hope he can. Jughead is in danger every second he is in that prison. I need him to be safe. I just have to put my faith in Hiram Lodge. What could go wrong? Oh, wait everything. I want to put my faith in Hiram about as much as I want to stab my eye out with a needle. I don’t trust him. Although, who can blame me. He did try to kill Jug during riot night.

I’ll bide my time just to see what he’ll give me. There is no way I’m putting all my eggs in one basket.

“We can definitely try. I’m just not sure he’ll be willing to help.”


	6. The Snakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have rewritten this chapter several times. I hope that you all like it.

**Jughead**

I step out onto the yard trying to ignore the rattle of my chains and the throbbing in my abdomen. I checked myself out earlier in my cell and the bruises on my chest and stomach were already colored a deep shade of purple.

I had also met my cellmate. Mr. Shane Collins is a one of a kind. I’m not sure if that’s a bad thing or a good thing. My cellie it turns out knows a lot about the prison system having spent almost six full years in the general population already. He wouldn’t stop talking at first; he asked me all sorts of questions. What did I do to end up here? Why did I do it? What I had done to deserve shackles around my wrists and ankles? I must have ‘F-d up bad’ to deserve that according to him. All of his questions I had expected.

What I didn’t expect was for him to completely ignore me once he found out my name. Oh, well. It’s not like I wanted to make a friend in prison. It’s just that it would feel a bit less embarrassing next time I have to use the John if the guy feet from me is a stand-up guy.

Granted the most demeaning experience I have ever experienced in my life happened when I first got to prison. Being strip searched in front of a bunch of guards is never going to be a highlight of my life, and even when I was given clothes after that humiliating incident I didn’t feel better. The uniform is itchy and feels as though it won’t provide much warmth in the coming months. Ugh, I hate uniforms. Not to mention the fact that the only thing similar to a uniform I have ever worn in my life was my serpent jacket and I feel bare without it. Hopefully, there will be other serpents here that will have my back.

That is what I plan to check on as I look to my immediate left and right in the one area in prison where fresh air and sunlight is available. I see bleachers to my left, weights to my right, and grass everywhere in between. I’m just about to give up trying to find serpents for the day when I spot a glimpse of a tattoo over by the bleachers. _Yes._

I start to shuffle in that direction when one of the guys I’m heading towards sees me coming. “You lost, newbie?”

I make a mental note before I speak: this guy is small, but he looks like he could still pack a punch.

“Maybe.” I take a deep breath. “Are you a serpent?”

“If you ain’t you better take that ass of yours across the field. This here’s snake territory, and we bite.” Another guy comes to stand next to the previous one. This guy is built like a freight train. Even Archie wouldn’t stand a chance to a guy with this much muscle.

I let out a sigh of relief. “I’m a serpent. I would roll up the sleeve of my shirt to show you proof, but.” I hold out my chained hands.

“Cruz, go check it out.” The first guy orders to the muscle.

Cruz, I take it comes over to me and asks, “Which one?”

“Left shoulder.” I reply.

He rolls up my sleeve to reveal my serpent tattoo, inked in fresh, but still there. My old one had been cut off just a few months ago. I’m glad I had the foresight to put the ink back on. It will be my link to safety here.

“Well, I’ll be. You really are a snake. You look a little young to be a serpent much less be here of all places.”

I attempt a smile, “Most of the serpents on the outside are my age.”

He smirks, “Really? Snakes must have changed from the last five years. My name is Lewis. What’s yours?”

And just when I start to think things will go my way for once. It all goes to crap when I answer. “Jones. Forsythe Pendleton Jones the Third, but I go by Jughead.”

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lewis’ face goes completely white when he hears me speak. It’s as if he had just heard that he was going to have to face the electric chair or fight a horde of zombies by himself.

“Did you just say Jones?”

I glance around me at the other guys’ reactions. They are all backing away from me as if I have the plague. “Yeah. My dad is FP Jones. You probably know him.”

Lewis looks around as if he believes he is being watched. He is of course. We are in a prison. That didn’t change in the last five seconds. I am just about to believe this guy is paranoid when he yells, “Go away! You’re not welcome here!”

Lewis and the other serpents turn their backs to me. What in the world? One of the serpent rules is: in unity there is strength. They can’t turn on what of their own. Anger courses through my veins.

“Come on, what’s the deal?” I ask.

A voice from behind me answers. “They don’t want to get in trouble.”

I freeze recognizing the voice behind me. I was really hoping I wouldn't see him here. How on earth did he get in here so fast?

Malachi steps into my view and says, “Hey, Jughead. It’s been a while. Last time I saw you, you weren’t breathing.”

“Actually, if you remember right, you saw me last week when Cheryl put an arrow in your shoulder.” I smile, putting on an outward façade while inside my heart starts to race. Malachi shouldn’t be here.

“I do remember that. Shoulder’s fine by the way. I don’t even feel it.” His eyes are bloodshot. He is probably high. “I just revisit the moment my gang and I beat the shit out of you all the time.”

My mouth goes dry, but I force myself to say, “You want to go through memory lane, fine. How are you in here anyways? I thought Penny had you on a short leash?"

He smiles before answering, "Mr. Lodge came by the Ghoulies to see if any of us still wanted a piece of you, and after getting shot by that arrow it was a no brainer. I volunteered."

I take a step back. That look on his face it’s the same one he wore when I- No, I can’t let myself flash back to that moment. I can’t let the fear overtake me in this place. There’s enough already here holding me down. I can’t let the past shackle me to.

"No brainer, huh? It certainly seems like you don't have brains."

"If I was in your position I wouldn't be making jokes. As I said; I volunteered, and you don't want me to have another reason to kick your ass."

He comes in closer to me his eyes gleaming maliciously.

"Don't count on back-up, Jughead. Hiram Lodge paid everybody in here to do one of three things. One, beat you whenever we get the chance; and two, not to stop anything from happening to you. Basically, no one in here will help you unless it’s to the morgue.”

My pulse sprints faster at his words, and my stomach shifts uneasily. “What’s three?”

“Refer back to number one. And don’t be looking to the guards for help. They are paid to, of course.” He glances at someone behind my shoulder. “Hold him.”

Strong hands seize my arms. With the shackles on it’s not like I could stop it anyways, but I fight their holds with everything I have in me.

It’s no use. The beating I take this time will be one of many. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think, and if there is anything you want me to add.   
Next chapter, Betty talks to Hiram for the first time since Jughead's arrest.


	7. Visitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the support. I hope you like this chapter.

**Betty**

Veronica and I head into the Pembrooke the next day. We would have gone earlier, but Veronica’s dad had a meeting out of town and head just gotten back. The Pembrooke hasn’t changed since I was last here. The glass chandelier is still the same as is the rest of the décor; which is a bit too ostentatious for my taste. The biggest difference is the breeze I feel when I walk in. The normally closed in exterior of the place is open, for once, letting in the sun. The big, open windows let in a lot of light to the place, yet for some reason it has never felt darker as we head towards the study.

Veronica doesn’t knock on the door before entering. She isn’t going to wait for an invitation, and neither am I. We enter into the private study to see Hiram Lodge enjoying a meal with his crisp suit rolled up at the sleeves.

“Sorry to interrupt your meal, daddy.” Veronica waves me forward. “Betty and I need to speak with you.”

He sips a glass of wine and dabs the leftover caviar off his lips with a napkin before speaking. “That’s okay, I was finishing up anyway. What can I do for you, girls?”

“We were hoping that you could help us. Jughead was arrested and taken to your prison.” Veronica sits down across from her father.

“I know.” He takes another sip of wine. “Mr. Jones, is in fact, being housed in one of my cell blocks as we speak.”

I scowl as a flare of anger rushes through me. “Are you aware of the illegality of that action?”

“Illegality? It is completely legal, Mrs. Cooper.” Hiram insists.

I snap back. “He’s sixteen.”

“I’m aware. I’m also aware that the juvenile system was out of openings.” He turns to Veronica. “I thought you would be happy, Mija, if I helped your friend to remain in Riverdale. His only other option would have been to be bused to a facility seven hours away.”

Veronica’s tone takes on a disapproving, and gloomy quality as she says, “So, you are the one who made that happen.” I know she was hoping that he wasn’t involved; that he was more of a saint than he has proven to be in the past. It sounds like she was wrong.

He holds his hands up as if in surrender. “As I said, I thought I was doing a fatherly act.”

“A fatherly act would be letting us see him.” Veronica retorts.

“We came up there yesterday and they wouldn’t let us visit him. They wouldn’t tell us why. Will you?” I ask, my eyebrows rising up in question.

“Yes, Mrs. Cooper, I’ll tell you why. Your boyfriend has been causing quite a commotion. He started a fight the other day, so the warden took away his privileges.”

There is no way he started a fight. Jughead wouldn’t do something like that, but I have no way to prove that let alone fix all these other problems. I have to get to the bottom of this; nevertheless, I need his help in order to put all the pieces together. The problem is it looks like I won’t be able to see Jughead. I need to find a way to talk with him even if it’s just a short visit. I feel so frustrated. This was a waste of time. I’m so stupid. 

I shake my head and say, “I can’t believe I thought for even a second that you might help.” 

I turn to walk away when I hear Hiram’s voice. “I can try to get you a couple minutes with him.”

“Thank you, dad.” Veronica looks to me with a grin on her face and her thumb in the air.

Victory is ours. I can see Jughead. My heart leaps at the thought of seeing him again. I guess this wasn’t a waste of time. “Yes, thank you, Mr. Lodge.”

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Mr. Lodge came through for me. I finally got permission to see him. Veronica and I were going to invite Archie, but truth be told I didn’t want to share the little time I had with Jughead. Veronica had to come because of her father, but even she didn’t mind steering clear for me once we get inside.

Inside the prison is exactly where I want to be until I actually got to the dark and depressing prison. Not that it was actually dark, but the atmosphere is beyond description. It’s like all happiness is drained out of you upon stepping inside. The surrounding perimeter of the prison has what looks like razor wire on the top of the gate. There is no beauty in the design, only brutal efficiency. There is a huge amount of security every couple of feet and I can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to be forced to stay; the suffocating feeling of being trapped. Pure hatred was poured into the making of this project. I can’t believe this place used to be a school. A school Jughead used to go to.

He is the only reason I force myself to step inside.

Inside the rules are very different than in the free world. Keep your hands where the guards can see them at all times. Don’t bring in anything that could be considered a weapon. As if my cell phone could be a weapon. I was told to leave it in the car. They have all of these rules to remind even visitors that this isn’t a good place.

It’s hard to image Jughead in a place like this. A place where actual criminals are shouldn’t be the same place where someone so good belongs. Jughead should never be placed in the same category as rapists, murderers, and serial killers. He’s not like Nick St. Clair, nor is he Clifford Blossom. He definitely isn’t my father. These are people who belong in a place like this, where freedom is limited, and nothing good ever happens.

_Juggie, my beanie-loving boyfriend_. I know that they must have taken it away from him, but part of me hopes that in a few minutes I will see Jughead wearing his signature hat and a smile. I know how much that beanie means to him. There are very few times he doesn’t wear it and I am grateful to be the one he chooses to share those moments with. If I’m being honest I had hoped I would be the only one to see that side of him; to see him that vulnerable. Granted, I had also hoped that he would never be forced away from something that means so much to him. That is why I’m still shocked when I see him without it, but his beanie is quickly thrown out of my mind as something else takes the forefront.

My heart almost stops when I take in his damaged and shackled form as he limps my way and takes a seat on the other side of the glass.

He picks up the phone on his side and I hear his voice from the one I’m holding. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, Betty.”

I had told myself I wasn’t going to cry, but seeing him obviously injured threatens my self-control. “Jug, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He replies. I know he’s lying from the way he shifts in his seat every couple of seconds to the limp he had when he walked in. Oh, and of course the dried, crusted blood on his face. I can’t forget that especially when it stares me right in the face.

I lean forward closer to the glass and demand, “Tell me the truth. Don’t lie to me.”

“You’re a great journalist.”

“Juggie.” I press. “Tell me.”

He finally relents with an exasperated sigh, “Some cuts and bruises; nothing too serious.”

“What about the serpents in there? Can’t they do something to help you?”

“They’re doing what they can.” Something flickers in the back of his eyes as if he’s hiding something from me.

“What they can? Jug, you’re bleeding.”

“This.” He points to the cut on his head. “I’m pretty sure it’s already stopped.”

“That’s not the point. The point is, you were bleeding.”

“Betty, really, I’m okay.” His swallows, then keeps going, “Malachi’s fist is just really hard.” He admits his eyes dropping to the floor.

“Malachi? I thought he was-”

“Yeah, me to. It turns out he’s in here.”

I bite my lip. I imagine that it’s hard enough being in here. It would be even harder with someone who actually has a grudge against you. I have to do something to help him.

“Jug, let me see if I can get you transferred to a different section.”

He closes his eyes for a second before opening them. “I appreciate the concern, but it won’t help.”

“Of course, it will help.”

That same flickering from earlier highlights his eyes again as he murmurs, “There’s Ghoulies everywhere, Betts. At least here there are serpents even if they can’t help as much as I wish they can.”

“Serpents who can’t protect you.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay, Jug. You getting hurt is not okay.”

His gaze locks on mine before he responds. “You’re right. It may not be okay, but you’re here with me and that makes it better.” He leans in closer to the barrier before placing his cuffed phoneless hand up to the glass. I reach over and put mine against the glass where his is. It almost feels like I’m touching him. “You came for me, and that means more to me than you realize.”

And for a second his pain is laid stark and bare. He is more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen him, and my heart shatters for him.

“I will always come for you.”

We pull our hands back in shock when a noise booms from my side of the barrier. Veronica walks in having no clue that she ruined our moment. “That worked perfectly.” She sees my boyfriend and gasps before grabbing the extra phone. “You look like crap.”

He rolls his eyes, “Nice to see you too. What went perfectly?”

“I was distracting the guard to give you two a few extra minutes, and it turns out he was flattered so much he wanted my number. Not that I gave it to him.” She shrugs her shoulders, her cheeks turning the color of the rose she received on Valentine’s Day.

Jughead grins at her, “Naturally. Thank you, Veronica, for coming. However, now I feel obligated to ask: how was your day?”

“School is almost here and I’m about to open my speakeasy. You will be there when it opens, I’m not taking no for an answer. My girl needs a proper date, Mr. Jones, and you will be her perfect escort.”

“I doubt prison chic is acceptable.” His joke falls flat, and causes the tension to build in the room.

“You will be there.” I promise. “Mrs. Andrews has been helping me with your case. I think we’ve got a real shot at getting you out of here.”

“Thanks, but-”

He gets interrupted by the timely or untimely arrival in my opinion of a correctional officer who grunts, “Time is up.”

“One more minute.” Jughead insists, “We’re almost done.”

“No, now.” The guard glares at him like a panther before it pounces on its prey.

“Can’t you give him a few more minutes?” Veronica snaps back loudly.

The predatory glare shifts to her, “What gives you the right, missy, to tell me what to do?”

“First, off my name is Veronica Lodge, and second my dad owns this prison.”

“Well, then you should know he doesn’t tolerate rule breaking.” He turns back to Jughead, “Time’s up Jones or else.” He doesn’t finish the threat, but as Jughead visibly flinches my blood is already boiling.

Clearly something has happened here that I don’t know about. I don’t even have time to begin to ask when Jughead says, “I love you” before placing the phone back and standing up.

I can’t tell if he hears me as I repeat back to him, “I love you too.”

I really do, and I wish I have more time with him. With or without a barrier, he is the one I want to be with. I can’t help it that my heart feels like something is missing when he’s not with me.

As he is led away I also can’t help, but notice that he’s the only one wearing shackles. What is going on at this place? What could they be doing to him? I don’t know, but I am going to get to the bottom of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and Kudos make my day; I'd love to get some feedback! And as always I really hope you like this story.


	8. Acting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your support, and I hope that you will all continue to like this story.   
I had to rewrite this chapter several times. I hope that you all like it.

**Jughead**

I’m led out of the visitation area and down a couple of hallways that all look the same to me. I will never be able to find my way in this place. Not that I want to be here long enough for its blueprints to become second nature.

The guard with me has a vicelike grip on my arm as he pulls me towards our destination. This particular guard I will probably always hate. He’s the one that ‘welcomed’ me into the prison, and he’s the one who seems to turn a blind eye to the beatings that I am given the most. Heck, he probably enjoys watching. He seems to get a kick out of hitting me himself. I have no problem believing he would gleefully observe me getting hit by the other inmates. I believe his name is Jenkins, but like all correctional officers we just call him boss.

“That your girl? She’s pretty. I would love to tap that.”

I know that he’s trying to get under my skin, but that doesn’t stop it from crawling. He will never touch her if I have anything to say about it. I respond protectively. “You can’t touch her.”

He narrows his eyes at me, which are full of malice. “I don’t remember asking for your permission. You do what I say not the other way around.”

I hesitate before saying, “You may not do what I say, but you do follow the orders of Hiram Lodge.”

He chuckles for a second then delivers a vicious backhand that has me reeling into the side of the wall. Before I know it he has me pinned against the concrete gripping my throat, squeezing slightly as if it’s a promise of what’s to come. “I will make your life a living hell. Mr. Lodge did give me permission to do that.”

He snags a handful of my hair and drags me from hallway to hallway. Every vicious tug brings forth a new complaint against my already aching skull. I can barely keep from tripping on the chains as he pulls me into the cell block and then roughly tosses me into my cell.

I drag myself to a sitting position against the bed to hear my cellie, Collins, voice. “You must have a death wish.”

“Why do you say that?” I wince slightly as I place a hand to my throbbing skull.

“I’ve seen you beaten up practically every day by guards and inmates alike. Anyone who was smart would be kissing ass trying to stop it, yet here you are. It almost seems like you want nothing to change.”

“Trust me, that’s not it.”

“What is it then?”

I don’t respond. It’s a little difficult to explain that nothing will change. Hiram wants me punished and I agreed to let it happen. I will not change course. I don’t have a death wish, but I made this deal knowing the kind of pull Hiram was likely to have here. I mean it is his prison. If he wants me to suffer it will happen. Even if the serpents did have my back it probably wouldn’t make enough of a difference. Hiram Lodge is Hiram Lodge. He runs this place like a well-oiled machine; he probably fixes every cog out of line himself, and he has the expertise and experience necessary to repair any problems. I was his biggest problem, and now I’m not.

The only good thing to come from this deal is my problems are mostly gone. My only problems now lie in here because there is no escaping the truth. This prison is his property, and my cage. 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx   
The prison chow hall is like a high school cafeteria. Tables upon tables of people sit eating, and chatting run the length of the room. I’m not sure what anybody is talking about, but then again I don’t care. In high school I was a loner. I was never a part of any groups until I joined the serpents, and I definitely didn’t fit in with the other clicks of school. Here it’s basically the same except instead of being an outsider to the jocks and cheerleaders I’m being shunned by the serpents, and ignored by everyone else. Of course, I will take being on the outside to getting my ass handed to me. It’s just my luck that doesn’t last long as Malachi and the Ghoulies approach my table.

“How has your day been? Mine has been exciting and is about to get even better.” Malachi chuckles as if he knows how bad my day, heck my entire week, has been. Oh, wait, he does know.

“Not bad, actually.” I answer sarcastically picking up some oatmeal (I think) with my spoon before letting it drip back onto the plate. “This meal is better than I expected. It tastes like everything else in here; rotten and full of shit.”

Hands seize my arms forcing me out of my seat facing Malachi. The guards around the room notice the conflict, but as always they ignore it. Nobody will come to my rescue.

“Is it time again already? You must be really boring.” I give him a big grin as I say it. I can’t help myself. I have to get some fun somewhere, and a part of me really enjoys annoying him. That is until he hits me. Pain stabs my jaw, and spreads across my face at his first strike. My vision blurs a little causing me to not even see the second blow.

My head whips to the side with fresh blood pouring out of my nose as he punches me in the face so hard that the guys holding me almost let me go. Almost. He lashes out, grabbing my jaw, forcing my chin up towards him.

“You must be a masochist if you enjoy pain so much.” He growls. “Let me help you with that.”

My eyes steady just in time for me to see him reach into his pocket to pull out a nasty lucking shiv. Crap, he means to stab me. I try to back away as fear ropes around my heart, but he still has a tight grip on my face and his guys grasping me still restrain the little movement I have with my shackles on.

He smiles sadistically holding the makeshift knife with a dangerous glint in his eyes. My eyes; however, remain locked on the blade as my pulse skyrockets faster each second. Then he strikes as fast as a cobra, but he doesn’t stab me. The crude weapon isn’t burying itself into my skin as its target is one of the men clutching me, whose eyes widen in sudden surprise before he collapses to the ground gripping his bleeding chest.

I’ve never heard a cafeteria so quiet until now as eyes focus on the injured man as his blood soaks the floor, as the air in his lungs rattle inside his chest until escaping past his lips. I’m so close to the body that I hear him breathe no more, his chest once rising and falling suddenly still.

The entire room remains silent as a mouse and still as a rock for a split second before erupting into total and utter chaos as guards and inmates alike begin to fight. Food is tossed into the air, bits and pieces of the tasteless slop landing everywhere from tables to the ceiling. It would have felt exactly like something pulled out a comic food fight except it is much more than that. More than food is being propelled across the room as fists are thrown and calls of pain ring out from all directions.

“No! What have you done, Jughead?” Malachi yells loudly, grabbing me himself and forcing me against the side of the table. Before I can understand why he would say that he punches me in the gut and I drop to my knees winded. He leans down to whisper next to my ear, “I can’t wait to see what they do to you now.”

Understanding hits me like a freight train. He’s pinning me for the murder. Even if the court doesn’t convict me for Cassidy’s murder they have another one to imprison me for. An involuntary shudder goes through me.

A murderous look goes across his face as Malachi acts his way through ‘a scene’ in his movie he has just created. “You will pay for this, Jughead!”

His fist slams into my head knocking me to the ground. All I can do in this chaos as Malachi attacks me, as gas suddenly fills the room choking me, as the riot squad comes in to regain order is to use my restrained arms to protect my head as much as I can. The rest of my body pays the price. I close my eyes hoping that this is a dream. That the pain I’m feeling is make believe and that I will wake up somewhere else where the ache is nonexistent. But it’s not a dream.

My whole body feels the pain even when the assault stops abruptly. One second I’m being hit and the next I’m not. Why did everything just stop?

I open my eyes to see the guards and the rest of the inmates observing me from the sides of the room, the chaos from moments ago forgotten. It is as if someone has parted the Red Sea and it just so happens that I’m the center of attention. I don’t know who has the power to do that until I see a man come to stand before me.

“Mr. Jones, isn’t it? I’m the warden here, and you should know that I take rules and punishments very seriously around here especially when a convict kills on my watch.”

I struggle to my feet wavering slightly. “I didn’t kill that guy.”

“You’re lying to me.” He takes off his glasses, pulls out a rag, and starts to clean them.

“No, I’m not. Malachi murdered him. I would have tried to stop it if I’d known.”

The warden shakes his head. “Another lie.”

Irritation surges through me. “I’m not lying!”

“I don’t believe you.” The warden adjusts his glasses back to his face. “And even if I did believe you, Mr. Jones, you still have to be punished. Take him to the hole.” He gestures and the guards surge forward to take me to whatever this ‘hole’ is.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

My new dungeon is dark, and reeks of a mixture of copper and sweat. The unwashed floors a tint of red give off an even more ominous threat down here than the rest of the compound. I notice the cells don’t even have bars as I’m dragged past heavy set looking doors before the guards stop when they reach the one room set aside for me. I’m not sure if the other rooms down here even have people in them until I hear a sound coming from one of them that goes deep into my core. A human scream.

I cringe inwardly unable to separate myself from emotion. The thought that soon someone could be listening to my screams disturbs me. I shudder at the thought as the guards drag me into my personal room. I hiss as my knees scrape across the floor before I’m unceremoniously dumped to the ground. One of the guards grabs the heavy iron chains attached to the cuffs around my wrists and ankles before yanking on them to test them for weakness. The other loops the chains through iron circles welded into the back wall of the cell in an attempt to restrict my movement.

I don’t pay attention to either of them. There is no point as they slam my cage door shut and I’m left alone in the chill of the dark hole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think


	9. Potential Threats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all like it.

**Betty**

I can barely wrap my head around this entire situation. Jughead is in prison for something he didn’t do. My investigation into who framed him has kept me busy this past week at Archie’s. I would have tried to do my research at my house, but it seems that the farm has taken over my mother’s brain. She would probably see investigating as something that should be left to the authorities. That is why my friends and I are trying to come up with evidence of our own at Archie’s house. The problem is: we’re coming up with goose eggs.

I slam my hand down onto the table. “Nothing. I can’t find one scrap of evidence that shows us where they are. It’s like these witnesses vanished. I’ve reached a dead end with trying to find them. Have you gotten anywhere with our list of potential framers?”

I look up from my papers to see mirrored expressions of failure on the faces of Archie and Veronica.

“We haven’t quite managed to narrow it down yet.”

“You’ve been at it for days and you can’t manage to cross off even one name.” I snap.

Archie looks at me like I just kicked a puppy. “Don’t bite our heads off. We’re trying to help.”

I take a deep breath realizing that I was out of line. They are only trying to help.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m just so frustrated.” I rub the back of my neck. I’ve lost track of how long I’ve been seated in this same position. Correction: I’ve lost track of how long we’ve been seated. It’s been at least a couple of hours. In fact, in the amount of time we’ve sat here the sun has buried itself in the horizon.

Veronica gives me a sympathetic look as she states, “It’s okay. We get it. It’s Jughead.”

“Yeah, and there are a lot of people to consider. Penny Peabody, Penelope Blossom, Tall Boy, even Mayor McCoy has beef with Jughead.” Archie looks at the magnitude of the list we created with an expression I have only seen on his face when he tries to solve a math problem.

Veronica shoots him a hard look, “Not that we think she framed him.” She pauses before adding, “It’s just that there are a lot of people to go through. Heck, it may not even be vengeance against Jughead. It may be someone trying to get even with FP or the serpents. Who knows at this point?”

“We should.” I reply.

We should know. My friends seem to think that solving this is impossible, but my name is Betty Cooper. When the rest of the town was running scared I found out who killed Jason. I solved the mystery of the Sugar Man, and the Black Hood…..I mean okay so the Black Hood was my father but still. I want to figure this out. No, I need to; for Jughead, and for me because I need him to be okay.

I turn back to my notes hoping to spot something I hadn’t noticed yet. A money trail would be the easiest way to solve this, but I haven’t been able to access Cassidy’s records yet. Not to mention the fact that the prosecution hasn’t given us discovery yet, so we don’t have a clue what ‘evidence’ they have against Jughead. Mary Andrews told me that she was going to start playing hard ball with these guys and demand that they tell us what they know. I just hope that it works. The more information we have the more we can help Juggie.

I take out my cell and dial a phone number listed on one of my notes. It rings for a few seconds before someone answers. “Hello.”

“Hi, is this Maggie Bullock? Cassidy Bullock’s sister?”

“Look, I don’t know who’s calling, but stop. I have nothing to say to you.” The women’s agitated voice says before the line goes dead.

I ring the number again only for it to go to voicemail. I will have to try again some other time, perhaps with a different start to the phone call. One that is a little more sympathetic.

Suddenly, the sound of my ringtone fills the air. _Yes_. I feel the tightness in my chest release. Maybe she or one of the other dozen people I called wants to talk after all.

Eager for information I answer, “Hello.”

A deep voice from the other side of the phone states, “Betty Cooper, stop investigating.”

I don’t recognize the voice, but for some reason my pulse starts to pound, and my mouth becomes dry. My voice thick and heavy asks, “Who is this?”

“Stop investigating or else.”

Then the phone cuts off.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

There is no way I am stopping my investigation. This anonymous phone call tells me one thing. That I can solve this. I’m on the right track, and someone somewhere knows that there is information to find. I only have to find it. And find it, I shall.

I have a lot of experience going in places I’m not supposed to. I mean, what other high schooler has Dr. Curdle Jr.’s phone number on speed dial? Not to mention, the places my mother’s press pass can get me into. People tend to look the other way when they see it. They don’t even notice that the photo isn’t me. Plus, I find that money talks. One president in particular even gave me the location of the crime lab.

I’ve never been in the building before, but it doesn’t seem too hard to find my way. There is even a nifty map on every floor that is complete with a ‘you are here’ sticker for the navigationally challenged. Honestly, they could have better security. The only guard I saw was at the front of the building, and when I told him that I was delivering a pizza he let me pass without a second glance. For a building supposed to be important to the police they certainly don’t take safety seriously enough. Of course, that doesn’t stop my confidence from growing a little as I take off the pizza delivery shirt and pull on the lab coat I had stashed in the pizza box. Wearing layers does more than just keep a girl warm you know.

As I near the lab my nerves start to increase. What if someone is in there? What if I get caught?

All the reasons not to do this start flooding into my brain. If I get caught I won’t be allowed anywhere near Jughead’s case. I won’t be able to help Mrs. Andrews in any capacity, and that might be the good outcome. They might believe that I had tampered somehow with the evidence and consider any data they have as tainted. That would screw Jughead up even more. _I can always try again later._ A small voice in the back of my head whispers.

I start to feel a slight panic. My stomach feels knotted, my forehead is slick with sweat and my hands are clammy. Maybe I should listen to the voice. For more time than I would like to admit I’m frozen; unable to decide what to do, and then a stronger voice within me speaks up. _This is for Jughead._ All of a sudden I’m reminded why I’m here, and the thought that he is counting on me propels me down the hallway.

I push the door open slowly, like I’m afraid there’s a tiger on the other side of the door. There’s not, but there is a man huddled in front of a microscope. I’m about to close the door and try to sneak my way out when I realize that I’m glad he’s there. He’s the one with the information I need. I just have to play it cool. I need to trick him. To find his weakness.

I’m saved from having to announce my presence when he says, “If that’s you Trevor, go ahead and put it on my desk. I’ll look at it later.”

It’s now or never. I take a deep breath before responding, “Actually, I’m not Trevor.”

The scientist turns his face toward me. “Can I help you? Are you lost?”

I notice the second he sees me as his eyes drift downward, below my face to the other parts of my body.

I hadn’t realized how tight this coat fits me. Maybe I can work with this.

I smile and reply shyly, “I was looking for someone.”

“Really. Who?” He looks me over appreciatively as his face becomes beet red.

I glance at the name plate on his desk discreetly and announce, “A Doctor Benjamin Browning.”

“Is this some kind of joke?”

“So it is you.” I walk over to him slowly, purposely showcasing my hips as I move. “You’re friends thought you could use a little distraction.” I bite my lower lip seductively.

He swallows. “Really, my friends, huh?”

“Yes, they did.” I toss my hair back to show off a generous portion of my chest peeking out from under my v-neck. “They think you work too hard, and that you could use a gift.”

I don’t feel even slightly guilty that I’m using my…..assets. It’s not like I like this guy. This is for Jughead. If this guy can help me help him, then bring on the flirty bimbo behavior.

It seems to be working. It’s like he’s having trouble talking. I can barely hear him murmuring something about time.

“Maybe you could show me a little bit of what you do?” I trail my finger up his arm slowly, deliberately.

“I ca-ca-can’t.” He stammers, “It’s against the rules.”

“What a pity. I was really hoping to get some time. Just a teensy bit.” And then I add on the charm a bit more by removing his glasses and tossing them to the side. “You look really hot without these.”

“I have contacts.”

I lean in forward just enough to ‘accidentally’ bump into a cup on the desk spilling the contents all over him. He jerks to his feet immediately and gasps.

“Oops, oh, I’m sorry.” I move towards him as if I could wipe the liquid away with my hands.

“No, my mistake. I shouldn’t have been drinking in here anyway. It’s against policy, but I do have a fondness for cappuccinos. I probably need to go clean up.”

“Well, I’ll wait here.” I smile innocently. As if I would never dare to look in the drawers, pilfer through the mucky contents of the trash can, and crack the code on the crime lab’s special computer.

“Actually, I better walk you out. Nobody is even supposed to be in here without clearance. Policy, you know.”

“I understand.” I intentionally hang back a little as he goes to the door and opens it for me.

“After you.”

“Why, thank you kind sir.” I reply.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes, miss.”

As he passes through the door I pretend to straighten my hair hoping to buy just enough time for-.

Yes! He turns the corner and I slip my fingers into the crack of the door made by the shoe I had stepped out of seconds before. I have noticed that when it comes to a woman a man never looks at the feet, and it is that observation that gives me my way in.

I realize I only have a few minutes so I instantly open the file cabinet and sift through the files until I find the one labeled JONES. It only takes a few precious seconds to pull out my phone and take a photo of everything in the file. If there is anything in here that can help Jughead I will find it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think, and if you like it. Kudos and comments are appreciated.


	10. A Taste

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has soooo much potential, so I hope I did it justice. There was several paragraphs I had to rewrite over and over trying to make it perfect, so I hope you all like it.

**Jughead **

A hollow cube of concrete with one way in and no windows; that is what solitary confinement apparently is made of. There is no way to tell how much time has passed or even if it was night or day. It’s no wonder that people are known to go mad in a place like this if left alone to long. The isolation is complete and the stimulation is zero. No light, no furniture, nothing is inside this barren cube. The only sounds I hear are screams. My screams, as every now and then the guards stride inside confidently and beat me.

I guess I’m just lucky they still feed me. Every couple of days, I’m guessing, they deliver a tray of barely edible slop that I have to force myself to eat. The little amount that I’m given does nothing to quench my hunger. The only aim in the continued eating is survival. I need to survive and I guess they want me to as well; although, even that feels questionable sometimes as pain is my only constant companion. 

The shackles bite into my skin and rattle with every movement (even though I can barely move a foot in any direction). I’m a little surprised I got used to the feeling of being trapped so quickly. My immediate reaction to solitary had me huffing and puffing as fast as a cheetah, but I have since been able to calm myself. I guess my acceptance of what is happening is keeping my sane. 

The door opens and the sudden introduction of light into the never ending darkness blinds me. I squeeze my eyes shut for a second before trying to allow my vision to adjust to the brightness.

Hiram Lodge strides into the room closing the door behind him so that the only light in the room comes from a bulb that has now been turned on. “How are you feeling Jughead?”

“Just peachy. How about you?” My voice sounds raspy after a long period of being unused.

Hiram’s lips curl into a smile as he states, “better than your girl I can tell you that.”

The band around my chest tightens. “She’s not-”

“No, she’s not hurt, physically at least, but having her one true love locked up is taking a toll.”

“What would you know about love?”

“I don’t know much. I do know how to recognize it, though, and she is desperate to find answers. Poking her nose where it doesn’t belong. I got to tell you if we hadn’t made a deal I don’t know if I could control my impulse to take her down a peg.”

I rattle my chains as if I still have the energy to break them as anger swells inside of me. “Don’t you dare hurt her.”

He laughs as he leans down towards my face, “Oh, I won’t Jughead. Because you see I already have a way to take out my frustration without breaking our deal. I am a man of honor you see.”

His response has me relieved, but I can’t help but find irony in what he said. “I don’t see honor. Honor wouldn’t frame a person for murder. Honor wouldn’t-”

He strikes out grabbing my jaw in a tight hold effectively shutting down my comment. “What did you say? I can’t hear you.” He growls squeezing my face even tighter. “You will be my personal whipping boy Jughead. Do you know what that means?”

I can’t answer due to his grip on me, so I roll my eyes at his expectant answer.

“It means that whenever I feel anger I will punish you no matter the reason. No matter the cause. If I stub my toe, I will punish you. If a deal falls through, I will punish you. If your girlfriend keeps poking her nose into my business, I will punish you, and I will enjoy it.” He says smiling sadistically before releasing my jaw harshly.

I stretch the muscles in my face letting my jaw settle back to a somewhat normal feeling for a bruise before joking. “Wow, I feel special.”

“You should feel special. I don’t normally invest this much into getting rid of one person, but you have become a huge threat to me. I tried killing you myself and it didn’t work, so I’m glad that your trial is coming up. That just means I’m one step closer to getting rid of you permanently.” His voice is laced with terrible purpose.

I mock him with a laugh of my own as I say, “You won’t be getting rid of me. Our deal was for me to plead guilty. That just means I’ll be right here. You own this place, so technically unless you stop visiting you won’t be able to get rid of me, and something tells me you won’t be able to resist visiting me; gloating is one of your most annoying qualities. You will be seeing a lot of me, unless you’ve decided to kill me.”

“Exactly.”

“What?” I say unsure I heard him right, but he doesn’t repeat himself. Instead he stands up and continues to speak as if he hadn’t just implied that he would kill me.

“Jughead, Jughead, Jughead. You will plead guilty but your sentencing will be a different matter. That is unless you want Betty Cooper to get hurt.” He threatens, his hands retrieving something from his pocket. A picture of Betty. It looks like it was taken recently: an image of Betty at Pop’s with her head buried in papers. He was having her followed.

Betty. Poisonous anger within me spreads, and my blood runs cold. “You won’t break our deal. You said so yourself.”

The words I speak are directed towards him, but part of me speaks because I’m desperate that he won’t hurt her; that she will be safe. The entire reason I’m here is because I love her. If she got hurt because I couldn’t protect her it would kill me.

“Ah, I won’t as long as you keep up your end. She is my insurance policy that you will do as you’re told. Plead guilty and let the chips fall where they may. I do have a friend or two in the justice department that will lean things the way I want. It should be easy when you plead guilty to Cassidy’s murder as well as the death of that unfortunate Ghoulie.”

“I didn’t kill that Ghoulie.” I retort.

“I know; however, you will plead guilty to both charges. Or else poor Betty will end up in some sort of accident or maybe I’ll just have someone beat her as I have you. How will you feel when she ends up being the one with bruises? Maybe even broken bones?”

My breathing becomes shallow and I’m physically shaking from this exchange. How dare he threaten her? I want so badly to wipe that smirk off his face, but the rage within me quells to a deeper urge; desperation. Keep Betty safe. It doesn’t matter if he wants more. Hiram Lodge could ask for the world, and I would deliver it to him on a silver platter to keep her out of harm's way.

I close my eyes breathing in deeply as I reply, “I’ll do what you want. Do what you will to me. Just don’t hurt her.”

“The real fun will begin after the trial, this is just a taste.” He forms his hand into a fist and plows it into my gut, slamming me against the wall. I double over gasping for air when he strikes me hard across the face. I crumple to the floor, my eyes stinging with tears from the blow. Before I was arrested, these attacks wouldn’t have felt like much, but the ache in my bones from my previous assaults allows a greater agony to punish me now.

His breath is a harsh pant against my ear, “Remember, Juggie,” he says the nickname with undeniable hatred. “I will hurt her so bad this will seem like nothing.”

His foot slams into my rib cage hard. I can swear I hear a crack just as a sharp pain pierces me so intensely I’m unable to stop myself from crying out. He hits me again, and all I can do is to curl up into a ball and grit my teeth as he uses me as a punching bag. 

By the time he stops I’m bleeding again. Blood is pouring in streams from my nose and mouth, and my ribs feel like I’m a piece of meat being skewered like shish kabob every time I breathe. The physical pain I’m in is horrendous, but something else remains worse. I am imprisoned awaiting a trial that will never give me freedom. The despair I feel eats away at the little hope I have, and my stomach curdles at the thought that I will never have one minute with Betty where there is nothing standing between us ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always let me know what you think.


	11. Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you all like this chapter. I feel a little like something is missing, but can't figure out what so I hope that it is good enough. I wanted to get it out today in honor of that fantastic episode. RIP Luke Perry.

**Betty**

So much for being Riverdale’s very own Nancy Drew. Every lead I’ve had has proven to be a waste of time. I still haven’t managed to track down the supposed ‘witnesses’ and the photos I took at the crime lab ended up being useless. All those pictures prove is that the evidence the Sheriff claims to have points to Jughead; that the fingerprints on the gun are in fact his. My working theory is that someone doctored the prints to look like his or that they just used the ones he had in the system years ago. It wouldn’t be too hard to convince someone to cook up the evidence, and as I’ve figured out through experience, money talks. This is why I’m interviewing suspects in the case starting with those that have cash to burn. 

In fact, I’m walking up the driveway of my first suspect now.

The size of Thistlehouse is quite smaller than that of the Blossom’s previous abode. It must have taken a while for Cheryl and Penelope to get used to. I still look up expecting to see the huge manor towering over me.

I’ve been here a handful of times before, usually to see Cheryl, but this time is different. I flashback to the first time I came here about a year ago. The leaves had not yet turned red, yet the summer heat had been replaced by a cool breeze. There are few times a year in Riverdale where the weather is perfect, and I remember thinking that such a beautiful day should never be missed by anyone. I remember the smell of the maple trees and the feel of his hand on my back, guiding me, and comforting me although he was the one who needed it more.

Today stands in stark contrast to that day. The sun stays hidden behind the clouds and the cool breeze remains nonexistent as if even nature realizes the gloomy atmosphere of this visit. This time, there is another hand on my back attempting to support me; a hand that carries a different, yet somehow similar presence because now I’m here with his father for that same unpleasant purpose. To gain information that can help free an innocent soul. I just hope that we can achieve some luck for the member of the Jones family that I love the most.

When the door opens to Penelope and she slams it in our faces that hope is immediately extinguished. Mr. Jones and I share a look. Neither one of us are giving up that easily.

I bang on the door again shouting, “Penelope, open the door!”

Still, there is no answer.

“Come on! We’re family! Just open the door, please!” I hammer on the door again and again my pulse pounding in time with my fists until suddenly the door swings open.

“What do you want this time?” She asks me before turning a glare to Mr. Jones. “And you, you better got off my front porch before I call the police.”

I hold up my hands, palms forward. “We’re here to ask you some questions, and then we’ll both leave.”

“Of course, you are. Well, I would say come on in, but it seems that this will be a short visit. Not that I would have it any other way. He’s not welcome here.”

Cutting Mr. Jones a sidelong glance I decide to bite the bullet and ask, “Are you framing Jughead?”

Penelope scowls. “Contrary to what you assume I don’t have my hands involved in everything bad in this town.” She shakes her head and points her finger at Mr. Jones. “I can’t believe you have the gall to show up here asking for my help with your son when you buried mine.”

I notice she didn’t answer the question, but I can’t blame her. I wasn’t wrong to have invited Mr. Jones to come with me; however, I should have known her reaction. 

When I had asked Mr. Jones I had only thought about having the support of someone that loves Jughead as much as I do, and when I told him I was going to talk to Penelope he practically begged me to come. Neither one of us is very good at waiting or doing nothing, but even he can admit when to back away.

He turns to me, his eyes glassy, and murmurs, “I’ll wait in the car.”

I nod to him, watching him slowly stagger his way down the pavement back towards the car, before rotating back to my suspect. “Do you know who is framing him?”

“No, I don’t.” She answers being obviously less than forthcoming about how much she knows.

I rub the back of my neck trying to keep my frustration in check as I press. “If you had to take a guess?”

Her lips curl in a smile, “I could, but I’m not going to.”

My pulse is faster than it should be, and my lip tightens slightly. Why won’t she give me one freaking answer? “You won’t even give me your guess. You’re going to stand by and do nothing.”

“Of course, I’m going to stand by and do nothing. If it was up to me he’d fry in the electric chair.” She says calmly, as if she was ordering take out.

And with that, she punches through my calm exterior. I’m so angry in that moment, so sick of her hatred, that I almost hit her. I surge forward and step closer, breathing hard, my face inches away from hers. “He didn’t do anything.”

“No, I don’t believe he did, but his father helped kill my son. As far as I’m concerned this is an eye for an eye.” She turns her back towards me about to walk back inside.

“Mr. Jones didn’t kill Jason.”

From her back she says, “He may as well have. I refuse to help that man, so as far as I’m concerned his son can rot in jail.” 

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I stare at the pages before me examining the information thoroughly. I’ve read them all over and over trying to see something that I haven’t already noticed. These papers from the innocence project hold absolutely nothing that can be of help. Damn it, I am getting desperate. Mrs. Andrews and I have searched and searched for a way to help or at the very least stall the trial. To no avail, our efforts have started to seem futile. Not to mention all the places that I have visited with Mr. Jones, Archie, and/or Veronica trying to get information. Everywhere we go doors are shut in our faces: both literal and metaphorical.

Although, if I had my choice one door would have stayed closed; the front door of my house seems to forget that my mom is my mom, and opens easily under her grasp. It seems that nothing is my choice these days though as she tells me, “Betty, I know you care about Jughead, but you should really take a break. Edgar says-”

I cut her off, “Edgar says. Edgar says, wow, can you hear yourself? This farm is messing with your head.”

“He’s just trying to help.”

I roll my eyes, barely taking in anything she says as I turn my face back towards the papers next to me on the couch. “Trying to help by getting rid of my diaries, getting me to drink tea, and who knows what else because it is insane isn’t helping.”

“If you really tried his methods would help. Look how much he’s helped me.” She says as if she’s the poster child for the place. 

Sure, she has seemed happier these days, but I’m not convinced that the farm is the answer. Plus, as far as I’m concerned she is way too calm and even to be discussing Jughead going to prison, possibly for the rest of his life.

“I’m not you, mom. As far as I’m concerned, Edgar, can take his advice and shove it. He doesn’t have someone he loves behind bars right now, so I’m going to do things my way.”

I shove the papers into my bag in no particular order before going up the stairs two at a time. I can’t get away from my body snatched mother fast enough. I can practically see her shaking her head, rolling her eyes, and/or texting her one true love, the farm, about me. Ugh. Isn’t it enough that this world is trying to take Jughead from me? Now it’s going after my mom.

I run my hands through my hair, letting the already disheveled ponytail fall away. I need to find something fast. Jughead’s trial is in six days. I can’t let him down. I refuse to.


	12. The Weight I Carry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this is okay. I wanted to put this up before I went to bed, so if there are any mistakes let me know.

**Jughead**

My muscles protest as I inch toward the visitation room. Sweat slicks my forehead from the effort, and my probably-broken ribs ache fiercely almost bending me in half from the pain. Every breath I take brings forth a hiss of agony from my lips.

How did someone manage to talk Hiram into letting them visit me? Who would bother? I know Betty would’ve, but her last attempt ended up with glass between us. No matter her desire she doesn’t have the power to get private time with me. Who else would want to see me?

The door opens into the room and I see someone completely unexpected sitting at the table; although, to be completely honest I should have known that Mary Andrews would be allowed to talk to her client.

She looks up as I enter, concern flickering across her face as she takes in the cuts and bruises on my face. I grimace as the cuffs around my wrists are attached to a metal ring in the center of the table and the slight shift in position pulls on my aching form. The guard, Jenkins, looks at me for a second, hesitation present in the frown on his face.

Mrs. Andrews addresses him seeing the exact same hesitation I was, “You can go. I wish to talk to my client alone.”

He mumbles something before leaving the room and us alone.

“Jughead.” She reaches out like she’s going to touch my bruised face, and I flinch backward. I’d been warned already not to touch anybody.

“I’m sorry, but you probably shouldn’t do that.” I caution.

She pulls her hand back, sorrow in her expression. “Right, I forgot. I’ve been in this same position more times than I can count, but it’s different. It’s usually not someone I care about on the other end of the table.”

I smile genuinely as I say, “I care about you too.”

“Are you okay? Betty told me that you were hurt when she visited, and I confirmed to her that it’s just the hardship of prison life.” She swallows before continuing, “But, seeing you still obviously injured….it’s harder than I thought it would be.”

I don’t answer the question; instead, I change the topic. I don’t want to lie to her, and the weight of all the lies I’ve told is heavy enough as it is. “How is Betty? And my dad?”

“They’re both worried about you. Betty hasn’t stopped trying to help you, and your dad….” Her voice pauses for a few seconds before adding softly, “He’s trying, but in a different way. Sometimes he is super focused on trying to help you, and other times it’s like it’s too much. He’s been on and off the wagon for a couple of weeks.”

I wince as the guilt hits me. I hadn’t even thought about how my dad would react to my deal. All that was on my mind was Betty. At least they will both be safe. 

I’m pleading guilty, so no matter what Mrs. Andrews does her energy will be wasted. She would be better off not even trying to help me.

I look down, avoiding her eyes as I say, “Thank you for your help, Mrs. Andrews, but it’s no use. I’m not worth your time and effort.”

“Of course, you’re worth it, Jughead. We can get you out of here. You just have to trust me.”

The truth is not black and white, but a mix of greys. I do trust her; however, trust isn’t on trial here. Hiram has made it impossible to go back to the simplistic reality I had once lived in. The world is infinitely more complex now.

My mouth goes dry as I reply, “I appreciate the enthusiasm, but it’s not going to work; especially, not with a second murder on my record.”

“A second murder. They didn’t tell me someone else died?” She flips through the pages in front of her as if she missed something within the sheets.

I wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t want her to know. Its way easier to defend when you know the attack is coming.

“A ghoulie in here named Cameron Carmine got stabbed. They think I did it, and who can blame them. The serpents and the Ghoulies are practically mortal enemies out there, and in here it’s even worse.” Most of that isn’t a lie; the Ghoulies are an enemy of mine, but they fail in comparison to the guards.

Under Hiram’s influence my time incarcerated has been worse than I had imagined it could be. I can’t tell her how bad it’s gotten. She would try to talk to the judge and that might just be Hiram’s excuse to put a nail in Betty’s coffin. I can’t let him hurt her. No one can know.

I was in the hole for several days, but before then I was involved in over half a dozen ‘fights’. The guards never called them what they were: beatings. The worst was when I was jumped in the shower; however, no one will ever hear about that one. I was lucky the only decent guard was working that day, and had managed to pull them off me. If only he’d been working that day in the cafeteria.

I’m pulled out of my memory when Mrs. Andrews asks, “What happened?”

“Huh?”

“With the ghoulie?”

Oh, right. We’re talking about the murder. “Malachi, the leader of the Ghoulies, killed him. I don’t know why.”

“The why doesn’t matter. What matters is that if you saw it someone else probably did as well. All we have to do is find a witness willing to testify.”

“Nobody wants to be a snitch.” And of course, Hiram pays a lot.

“How about a camera? This place is full of them. Surely, one caught the murder.”

She can’t keep doing this. My frustration at her, no, not at her at these circumstances is about to reach its peak. “Stop.”

She doesn’t listen. Instead, she keeps going. “No, I’m serious. We can find evidence. We just have to look. It shouldn’t be too hard-”

My breathing increases and the pain in my chest ramps up faster than I can blink. The burden of being in pain because I’m defenseless, the weight of having no one know the truth, and the lies I have to tell become too much. “Stop!”

A Guard opens the door and looks my direction. Mary, suddenly silent, waves him away.

I’m panting hard as tears threaten to form in the creases of my eyes. “I can’t. We can’t. Just give up.”

Slowly she replies, “Why should we give up? You can talk to me.”

I put my head in my hands and debate how much I should tell her or even if I should tell her.

Oh, God. I need to tell someone. Someone who will tell me that I’m doing the right thing. Someone who will understand.

Why not Mrs. Andrews? When I was a kid whenever I would go over to Archie’s house she would always be there to ask if I wanted a cookie or three. Then, she bandaged my knee when I fell out of the treehouse, and knew without even asking that even more cookies would make me smile. She has always felt like the mom I never had. Why not tell her?

I look back up to her. “If I tell you, you can’t tell anyone, right? Attorney-client privilege. Not even Archie? Or Betty? Or my father?”

“That’s right, but I don’t know why you don’t want them to know.” She answers, curiosity staining her speech.

“You’ll understand in a second.”

“Ok. I won’t tell.” She promises.

“I made a deal with Hiram. Archie’s freedom and Betty’s safety in exchange for-”

I hear her intake of breath as she finishes, “You being in here.”

“That’s right. And if I don’t plead guilty he’ll go back on his word. I doubt anybody would buy now that Archie committed the murder, but Betty….Betty would be in danger. I have no reason to believe he wouldn’t hurt her.”

Her eyes are misty; the telltale signs of tears forming as she begins to protest, “Jughead, we can figure this out. You don’t have-”

I cut her off, “Don’t! Don’t tell me that I can have my cake and eat it too. I will not put her in danger.”

She hesitates, and it’s like I can see into her mind. I imagine the objection she’s about to unleash. She will probably tell me that Betty can be placed in a safe house or something, and that I can be free. Well, with Hiram’s power I doubt it would work. She’s just going to have to get over the fact that I’m pleading guilty with or without her as my counsel.

When she finally ends her silence her voice breaks as she says, “I understand. I don’t like it, but I understand. I just want you to know that I’m glad that you decided to tell me; that you decided to not carry this all by yourself.” And then she says the words every child desires to hear from their parents, “I’m proud of you, Jughead.”

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I wake to a sudden noise outside my cell; the unmistakable, familiar sound of keys turning in the lock. A second later, the door opens flooding the room with light. Blinded by the sudden introduction I close my eyes and turn my face away.

“Now, Mr. Jones, I’m very disappointed that I can’t treat you today; however, your trial will be over in a matter of hours.” Jenkins smirks as if he knows what will happen. “And when it is, something tells me that there will be plenty of time for some…….special attention.”

A slight shiver goes through me at the thought of ‘special attention’. I don’t know what it will entail, but it’s definitely not going to be for the faint of heart. I doubt he wants to sit around to watch the next Avengers movie; although, I hear it was a great one.

He places something on the ground before me. I can’t tell what it is just yet as my eyes open into blurry slits. I blink a couple of times letting my vision slowly adjust to the brightness.

He unchains my shackles a second later and I’m stunned into silence. Not that I was a beacon of communication before, but a reprieve from the tight metal on my tender skin is a welcome surprise. I rub my bloody wrists and ankles trying to work some feeling back into them.

“Don’t get used to it. This is just until you get more appropriate attire on. Today is a very special day after all.”

Of course, I should’ve known. The little hope I had that I would have a bit more freedom is doused faster than Fred Andrews’ grill one summer when he caught it on fire.

Leveraging myself off the floor, I stagger onto my feet, wincing from the effort. The pain in my body has faded to a dull throb, but it still takes a phenomenal amount of determination to pull on the dress shirt and pants that is laid out for me.

Special day indeed, because this may be the last day I see Betty even if it is from across a court room, and I’ll be damned if I let her see the despair I’m in. I will walk into the court room with my head held high for her.


	13. My Ride

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this is a short chapter. I hope you all like it though.

Betty

I’m barely able to escape my overbearing mother. Today is Jughead’s trial, and she would inevitably have a few words from dear old Mr. Evernever that she believes would be helpful in my situation. Those words are complete crap in my opinion, and anyone who takes stock in them needs immediate help with their sanity. Thus, the escape. Avoiding my mother is totally worth the extra effort of tiptoeing around the house, and having to find my own ride to the court house.

My first option for a ride just so happens to be peeling out of his driveway way to early. Damn it, Archie. I totally should have texted him.

I’m about to bound after him when a dark vehicle pulls up, blocking my possible route. The driver steps out of the car seconds after parking illegally on the side of the curb. Seriously, there should be a written warning sign not to park there. Oh, wait, there is a sign.

“Mrs. Cooper, I presume.”

I give a short nod before saying, “That’s me, but I’m a little busy at the moment so it would be great if you would get back in your car and go.”

“I can’t do that, Mrs. Cooper. I was told to give you a ride to the court house.” He replies, his dark sunglasses and black suit reflecting the mood of the day. 

Who does this guy think I am? I’m not about to get into a car with a stranger. I’m not an idiot. “Who are you? And why would I get in this car with you?”

“I was hired by a Mr. Hiram Lodge to take you. It seemed to be of the utmost importance.”

Crossing my arms I ask, “Really? And even if I was so inclined to get into the car, it’s a bit early don’t you think?”

He replies clearly exasperated, “I don’t have any of the answers you’re looking for. I’m just the driver, and I was told to pick you up at this time.”

I hesitate. I don’t actually have a ride, unless I wish to wait for my mother. I shudder at the thought. I’d rather get into the car with a possible serial killer.

My curiosity gets the better of me as I step towards the car. “Fine, I’ll go.” I say as I open the door and climb into the spacious vehicle.

The driver starts the car seconds later and we are off on a possibly suicidal mission. I really hope curiosity doesn’t kill, well, me in this case. I’m not in the mood to die just yet. I was really looking forward to….Well, that’s too painful to think about. There is a ton I was looking forward to doing with Jughead, and today will determine that fate. Today will determine if we have kids or go on a trip to Paris together. I’ve always wanted him to kiss me under the Eiffel Tower. Even if the trial goes our way it may not even be possible. I know he loves me, but does he want the same things. I don’t know. A girl can dream, can’t she?

As I step out of the car, into the court house, and through the hallways of the damned I think about how all this will end. How it all has to end because I only have one dream. I only dream for him to be in my life; to be wrapped in the comfort and safety of his arms forever. Nothing else really matters.

My escort opens a door somewhere near the middle of the hallway and orders “wait here” before disappearing from the room himself.

No way am I waiting. I go to the door, turn the nob, and give it a tug only to find that it won’t open. The blasted door is locked. My frustration builds. If this is some kind of sick trick to make me miss the trial I’m gonna….well, I don’t know what I’m going to do. Kick down the door? No, I’m not strong enough. Damn, why do I forget to bring my bobby pins with me the one time I need them?

I sigh and run my fingers through my ponytail-less hair.

All I can do is sit and wait. That is unless I come up with an answer myself before someone finds me. I’m no one’s damsel in distress. In fact, I’m Riverdale’s very own Nancy Drew, and I can figure this out. Hopefully.


	14. The Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you all like this. Thank you all for reading and supporting this work.

**Jughead**

We reach the courthouse sooner than I thought we would. I only know that because the second I step into the building there is a giant clock in the hall. I don’t know what Hiram has planned, but I keep my mouth shut. I don’t want to piss him off right now. Besides, I need more information before I can act on anything. Not that I would. He has me tied around his little finger.

And more information is what I plan to get as I’m dragged farther into the interior of the building. The narrow hallway illustrates nothing about the imminent fates of the men and women who walk it. People from all walks of life come here to be sentenced or to watch as those they love are taken away. Bankers, lawyers, even school teachers are sometimes within the walls. Even the man who put me in this position, and calls himself a father to one of my friends is here. In fact, I see him standing feet from me apparently awaiting my arrival as he strides my direction a second later. 

“Don’t say I never gave you anything.” Hiram announces to my utter confusion.

A gift seems so out of character for Hiram. I mean why would the joker give Batman a present? “Why would you give me anything?”

He smiles, turns to me, and laughs. “I don’t have to tell you, Jughead. Don’t expect me to give you anything ever again though. This is a one-time gift.”

He nods to his guard before walking away.

What could be his plan? I’m not sure. I’m not sure about much these days. I’m not even sure if this gift is in fact a gift. Hiram could be lying. Some sort of evil manipulation to make me feel hope that there will be something good.

And then the guard opens the door.

My heart jumps in my chest when I see the most beautiful girl in the world, sitting on a couch, staring back at me with her mouth open. “Jughead.”

I let out a breath I didn’t even realize I was holding. _Betty_. My heart starts to pound against my chest like a jackhammer pushing me to run to her, to hold her in my arms, and never let her go. I’m about to give it it’s wish when I realize the guard still has a hold on the chains that have become my perpetual cage restraining even the slightest movement from me.

“Mr. Jones, you have half an hour.” He announces as he uncuffs the shackles around my sore wrists and ankles.

I know its cliché to say this let alone do it, but the second he leaves I don’t care that I am becoming the trope of every romance movie. We close the distance to each other and embrace. With her arms wrapping around me and mine around her everything feels right.

We hadn’t touched let alone kissed since before I was arrested, and the craving I feel for her is even more undeniable than it has ever been. I didn’t realize how desperate I had become to be within her presence. It is as if I am a man in the driest desert of the world who had found water, and for the first time since I was arrested I feel whole.

I pull away from the hug to kiss her. I kiss her like my life depends on it and I feel her lips move on mine in reciprocation. She curls her fingers into the nape of my neck as I slide my hands to her hips to draw her closer so that our bodies become flush and hot. Our heartbeats echo out, pounding in a thunderous tune together. Pure joy rips through me as we fall down onto the couch together. Her hand moves down to my chest and she unintentionally presses down on a bruise.

I break apart from her abruptly with a bitten-back cry of pain. “I’m sorry.” I breathe out.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay?” Betty says, looking horrified by her actions. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, of course not.” I bite my lip. I didn’t want to add to her stress by showcasing more of my problems, but she always saw right through me. I have to tell her. “I’m just a little sore.”

“I’m such an idiot. I should have known. Let me see.” She demands.

I hesitate a little too long because she places her hands on my arm and continues, “I need to see if you’re alright.”

I nod. I know she won’t stop trying to check on me until she has seen the damage with her own eyes. I inhale and exhale slowly before beginning to unbutton my shirt. I keep my gaze away from her feeling ashamed at what she was about to see. I know that my torso looks bad. It feels even worse, but I’m not prepared enough for her reaction. Betty gasps as she takes in the damaged flesh, and tears start to fall down her cheeks.

“Juggie.” Her eyes are wide with concern as she takes in my condition.

“I know it’s bad.” The bruises on my chest and abdomen are varying in colors now. Bright red bruises from a beating I took less than an hour ago mix in with the others. The first ones I received after being arrested have almost faded but have taken on a yellowish tinting while the more recent abuse is showcased in black and blue, so bad is just the tip of the iceberg.

“Bad? This looks like torture.” She says as her fingers brush softly against my skin. “What happened?”

“Let’s just say the other inmates aren’t fans of mine. If the serpents hadn’t tried to help it might’ve been worse.” I add another lie before she can question further, “Things will be okay; though, this is just temporary.”

She protests, “Jug, I told you before that we needed to do something about this, and we didn’t. Now, you look even worse. I need you to be safe.”

“Look at me.” I gulp as she meets my eyes. I hate lying to her, but I will. “Today, is my trial. I can get out of this, and I will. Mrs. Andrews has a plan, and I trust her.” I grasp her hand and place my lips along the crescent shaped scar I see. Nausea creeps through me for a split second. That scar is fresh because of me, and it will more than likely be opened again. “I just want to enjoy this moment.”

Each of us has been through our very own personal nightmare we won’t be waking up from any time soon. I shudder inward since it’s my fault. It’s all my fault. The least I can do is give all I have left. I lean forward to place a soft kiss on her lips.

“We don’t have much time” I murmur against her lips.

Finally she relents. “Then let’s make the most of it.”

As the last word leaves her mouth, she kisses me.

I kiss her back and twist my fingers into the material of her shirt. There is no asking. I already know what she wants as much as she knows I need it; the comfort and feel of her against me. I pull her shirt up and over her head. I run my hands over the exposed skin as if for the first time. She pushes me gently down onto the couch carefully avoiding the most bruised areas of my chest.

I love her with all of my heart and soul, and I tell her so with each kiss. I kiss her cheek, her jaw, then her throat, lingering for a few seconds there before going further down. She arches her back and moans as my mouth reaches every curve of skin. With each caress I tell her that our love is stronger than anything. It makes us more than what we were, and more than we ever thought we could become. I can tell she agrees as her hands find their way to the button on my pants and our lips meet again. In seconds, the rest of our clothes are off leaving only skin on skin contact. Every muscle in my body relaxes at her touch as she takes her hands and moves them up and down my body. Her fingertips leave a lingering heat wherever she touches.

Even at the final moment, as we become one that heat still lingers. We are wrapped around each other in an intricate piece of art telling the most beautiful love story; more beautiful than even Romeo and Juliet. We are Jughead and Betty, and our story is one for just the two of us.

When we are done we lay on the couch together deep in thought. I think about how perfect we are for each other, but most of all I think about how much I’m going to miss her. I know that’s not what she is thinking though.

I can read her expression just as easily as I can recognize her heartbeat against my chest, but there is nothing else I can say. There is nothing that will change what will happen, so I just close my eyes and hold her as she traces her fingers across my face. In tender strokes as light as a feather her thumb outlines my forehead, temple, cheeks, even the small scar above my eye. I’m so relaxed I don’t even feel when she reaches the edge of a bruise or cut that has yet to heal. I would stay here forever if I could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there are any mistakes let me know. I also appreciate any feedback, and thank you for the support.


	15. Trial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you all like this chapter. I tried to make it somewhat accurate; although, not all of it is. Let me know what you think and thank you all for the support.   
I hope I did this right. It wouldn't let me paste the chapter from word like it normally does. If anybody knows how to let it copy and then paste please let me know. I really don't want to have to retype the next chapter by hand like I did this one.

**Betty**

Every time we make love it feels like the first time, and yet it feels like we've been doing it forever. It's always a special moment, and today is no exception. Jughead never fails to make me happy.

But, of course, happiness is fleeting. It doesn't last forever. It's a thought I can't help, but linger on as Jughead and I pull our clothes back on in silence. At this point, there isn't much left to say. I have faith that he will be proven innocent in less than an hour. It's the only logical choice the judge has. That still doesn't take the bite out of seeing him get cuffed a minute later.

"I'll see you in a little bit, okay?" I say softly, putting my lips on his one last time.

"No matter what happens, I love you, Betty." He replies against my lips.

"I love you too, Jughead."

Then he is taken away, and I am left in the suddenly lonely room. I take a deep breath to prepare myself before stepping into the hallway to find the courtroom. 

Have I mentioned I hate courtrooms? Every time I step foot in one something bad happens. In fact, there is not a single good memory that has taken place in one, which is why my trust in Mrs. Andrews doesn't erase the unease I feel as I walk into the room. It only takes a second to locate Archie. He's sitting on one of the court benches with Veronica, who is fanning herself with a piece of paper. The room is boiling without air conditioning, but none of us would miss this.

I take a seat on the bench next to Veronica trying to ignore the whispers and the glares from the people around me. It turns out that most of Riverdale is here. I would hope that the town is one Jughead's side, but I know the truth. Most of the citizens of this fare town aren't fair. They are here to gossip, point fingers, and prove to themselves that the south side is as bad as they've always thought. Jughead's trial isn't just about one man's innocence to them, but the town's civil war. If he gets convicted they have all the more reason to believe in their own opinions of right and wrong.

Archie and Veronica share a look next to each other. It's as if they are having a full conversation by just staring at each other. Jug and I have that sometimes; the ability to look at each other and know instantly what the other is thinking. If things go south we won't have that any more.

A jolt of envy goes through me. Archie and Veronica don't have to worry about that. No matter what happens today they will have each other while my other half might end up imprisoned for the rest of his life.

My stomach drops at the thought. These last few weeks have been some of the worst of my life. I can't imagine-I don't want to think about this torture lasting forever.

I wring my hands as worry permeates my entire being.

Archie stands up and sits down on my other side. My best friends reach for my hands before giving them a reassuring squeeze. I didn't even know how badly I needed their support until I had it. They probably didn't even realize, but their actions blocked me from digging my fingernails into my hands. Jug is the only person who knows about my self-destructive habit, and he usually stops me. He's not able to right now though, so my fingers squeeze back with zero intention of letting go.

Their support in a time like this means a lot to me: almost as much as Mrs. Andrews's willingness to help our friend without taking a single penny. I hear the ruffling of her papers as she flips through each page. Jughead said she has a plan, and I believe him. The nervousness with which she flips through each sheet; however, pulls at my uncertainty. I've been working with her on this case for weeks now, and she hasn't mentioned a firm strategy to me.

I really hope she has one because when I compare Mrs. Andrews with the high-dollar prosecuting attorney the differences are clear. He's wearing an expensive suit, polished nails gleaming brightly, and a smirk. Confidence radiates out of him. He doesn't even try to look through his notes. If Mrs. Andrews has a plan, he certainly acts as if he has one as big as a Trojan horse. I just hope that his horse fails to enter the city. Jughead's freedom depends on it.

The crowd's whispers increase in volume as my boyfriend and his guards enter the room. His footsteps echo almost as loudly as the chains binding him until the moment he sits down next to Mrs. Andrews. I feel sick as they shackle him to the chair. I didn't expect that. When Archie was on trial he never had shackles, and he never was tied down like an animal.

My mouth goes dry, and my pulse pounds. This is really happening. It's not some horrible nightmare that will end if I click my heels three times. I fight to keep my breathing even as the judge enters the room, and the audience falls silent at the bang of his gavel.

The judge speaks, his deep voice commanding the room. "The court has now come to order. Today's case is the state versus Jones."

He turns his gaze towards Jughead as he says, "Mr. Jones, you are charged with two counts of murder. How do you plead?"

Gasps reverberate around the room. Two? None of us saw that coming. I definitely didn't. It feels as if ice has settled in my chest. Who else is dead? Why are they saying he did it? And why am I just finding out about this?

My thoughts are swirling around my mind like a tornado. I have to force myself to focus. I take a deep breath ready for the arraignment to be done, and the actual trial to begin. I still have hope. I have to believe the truth will come out, and justice will set Jug free.

The room goes silent as Mrs. Andrews stands up. "Your honor, the defendant pleads guilty."

If I thought shock had resonated in my body before, I was vastly wrong. I can't hear. I can barely feel the hands in mine tighten. My mind is in full on freak out mode, and for a second it feels as if I'm numb. Unable to exist with the world around me.

I regain my feeling, my hearing, my existence just as the judge says, "Guilty. Really? Well, in that case I need to hear it from you, Mr. Jones. How do you plead?"

Jughead replies almost mechanically, his voice devoid of any emotion. "Guilty, your honor."

My heart starts to tremble. I don't know why he would do that. When I talked to him less than an hour ago he seemed assured that things were going to be alright. Then he goes and does this. Doesn't he realize the consequences?

I swallow a painful lump in my throat. What's going to happen now?

"Does the prosecution have a statement they would like to share?"

"Yes, your honor. " The prosecutor stands up and speaks. " I know that most of this case has focused on the death of one, Cassidy Bullock, but I'm going to bring attention to the unfortunate death of Mr. Cameron Carmine."

His voice continues to ring out with as much confidence as I expected him to have. "Yes. Mr. Carmine was in fact a criminal. He was serving a two-year sentence for robbery at the Lodge Detention Center, and had previously spent time at a different facility for gang related activities. There is no doubting that Mr. Carmine was a guilty man; however, he was also rehabilitated. He was about to get out of the gang business; had in fact promised his mother that he was going to go on the straight and narrow. You see, Mr. Carmine, recently became a father, and he realized that he wanted to see his daughter grow up. It just so happens that his one-year daughter had also just lost her mother in a tragic accident. This combined with his desire to see her had a powerful influence on him. Mr. Carmine was on the path to changing his life around Mr. Jones brutally stabbed him. Because of the defendant's actions a child is left without a mother and a father. There is no tragedy greater. Thank you, your honor. I trust that you will do the right thing."

As he sits back down I can't help thinking how compelling his argument is. The humanity he showcased from one of the victims would have brought any jury to the decision that the guilty party should be punished. It makes me grateful that in this case, there is no jury. There is only a judge, and I hope that he isn't as easily swayed.

"Does the defense have anything they would like to say?"

Mrs. Andrews says, "No" just as another voice is heard.

A woman from the other side of the room stands up and shouts, "He shouldn't have the right! He killed my son! He's a murderer! Murderer!" pointing her finger at Jughead.

She rushes forward hands outstretched as if to strangle him. "You killed my son!"

The guards stop her before she is able to reach him, and the judge commands. "Get her out of here."

The woman is dragged out of the room, but the damage is done. The crowd erupts. Shouts for justice echo around the room which the judge angrily silences, his gavel booming like a rifle shot. "Silence!"

The room goes quiet once more as the entire town leans forward in their seats, eager to hear what the judge will say.

I watch him anxiously, my heart heavy with dread as he strokes his chin in thought.

The judge's voice is laced with terrible purpose when he finally speaks. "Upon consideration, due to the brutality and callousness of the acts, it is the judgement of this court that the defendant shall be sentenced to death."

Death. I cover my mouth with my hands as my whole body trembles. With one word all the color seems to have drained from the world creating a feeling of disorientation and dizziness. I can't breathe. The crowd yells, I think. The little focus I have is trained on the boy who owns my heart.

A boy who barely reacts to the sentencing: only lowering his head in quiet solitude. Tears roll down my face as he is forced to his feet. He walks towards the door his head still bowed until he looks up for a split second and our eyes lock from across the room. And with these windows into our souls we tell each other perhaps for the last time I love you.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been pulling a few late nights at work, so I hope that the late nights won't effect my ability to get the next chapter done by next Wednesday.   
It takes about an hour to retype it from my word document as opposed to how I used to copy and paste ( only took seconds), so I hope that won't slow me down as well.  
Let me know what you think! I appreciate any feedback and thoughts.


	16. Broken Protocol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry it has taken so long to update. December was a really busy month at work, and this chapter for some reason kept giving me trouble. I will try to do better about updating. I hope you all like it.

**Jughead **

Betty’s face is hard to get out of my head. The sight of her tears jabbed into my heart. I hate that she felt that way for even a second because of me. Not that I hadn’t felt the waterworks threatening to spill over the edges of my eyes when I heard the word death. I didn’t know that was going to happen, and I was probably just as shocked as the rest of the audience when the sentence was stated. I know that Mrs. Andrews was stunned. She had followed me out after the ruling, and basically begged me to tell the truth. She is a great woman, and the fear that plagued me almost allowed me to listen. I stuck to my guns though. I would go to Hell and back for that girl of mine.

I sort of am.

Or at least Hiram Lodge’s version of Hell as the gates behind me close and I walk shackled through the hallways of the Lodge Detention Center once more. Most of my guards left me at the entrance. They probably assume I won’t try anything since I hadn’t over the last few weeks, and even if I was a betting man I wouldn’t put money against that opinion. They are right. The increase of fear that has presented itself in me isn’t enough to prevail against my strongest desire because even though I’m marked for death I understand what’s important.

Jenkins pulls me into a small section of the prison, and commands, “wait here.”

He leaves me in the area alone. It takes a few seconds for me to ask the obvious question. Why? Even if I wasn’t on death row right now inmates aren’t allowed to stay out and about by themselves. He’s breaking protocol. And worse.....if I get caught by myself even if I was told to wait here things could get ugly.

As a door slides open I realize the guards are the least of my worries. Five prisoners are on the approach, and Malachi just happens to be one of them. A chill crawls up my spine as they get closer.

“Well, well, well. Hi, Jughead; fancy seeing you again. Did you think you were going to get out?”

I can't let him know how nervous I am. I try to keep the anxiety out of my voice as I reply, “Out, no. Solitary, yes, but boss seems to want to hit the head first before taking me. Honestly, the man holds his bladder like a toddler.” 

Malachi chuckles. “That’s not what he’s doing. You see, I didn’t get enough time with you, so I persuaded him to let me have a few minutes with you.”

I gulp, my eyes shifting between the men. “Why do you guys trust Malachi? You know he killed your friend, right?” I say hoping to create some dissension within their group.

“Carmine? He betrayed us. He was going to go to the feds, and give them information about us.”

“He’s no friend of ours. Malachi, did us a favor.”

It turns out there is no enemy of my enemy here as they circle around me like a hawk.

“You see, Jughead. Ghoulies stick together, and vengeance for us takes priority.” Malachi states as he takes out a nasty looking knife. “This one is for you.”

My heart drops into my stomach as I’m seized with terror. One thing helps, though. This isn’t Hiram’s plan, and that means that even though I may not be able to fight very well I can still try.

Malachi’s free hand coils into a fist as he orders “Get him.”

They charge me from all sides. One of them grabs me from behind and heaves me into the air. My feet lift off the floor and I use the momentum to kick one of my attackers. Taken off guard, he staggers backwards, cursing at the top of his lungs. Another prisoner manages to punch me in the face causing blood to pour into my eyes from a new cut on my forehead. 

I brace myself before head-butting an attacker. He falls to the ground hard. Yes. I got one, but my satisfaction is short lived as a punch hits me in my already abused stomach causing an unbelievable amount of pain to double me over. I’m on my hands and knees trying not to vomit when another hit to my head knocks me to the ground.

I try to get up, to create space between my attackers and I, when strong hands seize me.

I struggle against the hold of two guys who slam me back down to the hard floor. The impact jolts my spine, making me wince and suck in a breath. Their powerful holds prevent me from rising more than an inch effectively pinning me down like a lamb ready for slaughter.

I’m officially unable to move when Malachi digs his knee into my chest causing me to groan in pain. He brushes the knife across my cheek, and slides it down my chest to rest somewhere near my bellybutton.

Eyes stinging with sweat and blood I stare up at him, “please, don’t.”

Malachi bends forward leaning his weight onto the blade. Its tip pierces my skin, sending a hot stab of pain through my body. I gasp.

“You snakes never learn. Now, you will feel the full weight of what you’ve done.”

As the knife sinks another millimeter into my flesh I howl out in agony.

I’m barely able to speak, my voice barely above a whisper. “What about what you’ve done? You’re going to rot in here just because you wanted revenge.”

“Shut up!” He pushes down, twisting on the hilt. I arch backward with a scream as if I can escape the pain.

Darkness floods into the edges of my vision as Malachi is pulled off of me unexpectedly.

I’m gasping for air so loud I barely hear a voice say, “You asked for time. You didn’t tell me you were going to kill him. The boss wants him alive.”

My vision blurry I barely register my surprise savior, Jenkins, kneeling down next to me uttering, “Damn it, you’re not allowed to die yet.” 

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I can barely feel my legs under me as I’m dragged through the prison. The pain of my knees scraping across the rough ground is nothing compared to the burning in my gut or the feeling of helplessness surrounding me. For once I’m grateful that Jenkins wants to follow Hiram’s orders. I couldn’t have walked anywhere on my own with the stab wound bleeding me dry and making me feel weak. I can barely move. I’ve never felt weaker than I do right now; unable to support a single pound of my own weight. I’m completely reliant upon the man who ironically usually tortures me. 

Every breath’s a challenge. The blood in my nose has crusted over, so that it’s easier to breathe through my mouth. Even then, the taste of blood makes me gag and the pull on my gut causes immense pain with every breath.

My eyes are blurry as the world tilts and I’m suddenly laying on a cold, flat surface. An agonizing pain pulses from my gut once more. I curl my fingers tight into a ball. The world’s still spinning, but at least my vision is getting clearer by the second. 

Someone, I can’t tell who, grabs my arms and straps them down to the table. The leather isn’t as tight as metal usually is, but my tender wrists are nonetheless held in place.

A new blur of a person arrives, leaning over me at the same time as I hear a woman’s voice saying, “you don’t need to do that.”

“He’s a convict. It’s the rules.” Jenkins replies.

Rules, what rules? 

I try to focus on my breathing. In. Out. In. Out.

My body trembles as my shirt is cut off me and gentle hands inspect my abdomen. As fingers move over the injury I grit my teeth. I can tell the person isn’t trying to hurt me, but the lightest touch sends a shockwave through me.

“He looks like he’s just a kid. He shouldn’t even be in here. What happened?” The woman asks.

“He was stabbed.”

“Yes, I can see that. I was asking for more information.” She retorts angrily, escaping my vision for a moment only to return with something in her hand. I can’t tell what it is with my vision still hazy.

As her hands find their way back to my skin a fresh wave of pain assaults me. My back bows of its own accord and a moan escapes my lips. 

She turns her head to me. “I’m sorry, I should’ve said something earlier. My name is Dr. Sara Tancredi. I’m here to help you. What’s your name?” She asks kindly as she places electrodes onto my chest.

“J-J-Jug-head” I stutter out. My chest heaves from the effort. It’s hard to imagine that weeks ago I was delivering speeches hoping to give the serpents renewed life when pronouncing my name feels like trying to run a marathon. 

Sweat pours out of me in rivulets, and my head is starting to hurt. The beeping sound next to me doesn’t help. 

Dr. Tancredi looks at a screen for a moment before grabbing a syringe from the cart next to her. She explains to me, “Well, Jughead, I’m about to give you something for the pain, alright?”

“He can’t have it.” Jenkins argues.

“What do you mean he can’t have it?”

“The warden says he’s not supposed to have any pain medication. This comes down from the highest levels in the prison.” Jenkins explains, his voice giving away his irritation.

“Yeah, well, they can answer to me. I don’t care what the warden says. He is my patient, and I will treat him as a human being.”

I feel a pinprick on the inside of my arm as the needle is inserted. Less than a second later a feeling of warmth spreads from the injection site into the rest of my body.

It works like a charm. My vision clears, my heart rate normalizes, and the once agonizing pain shifts into a dull, steady throb.

“Rest assured I will be letting the warden know about this.” Jenkins delivers to the Doctor who for the first time I can see clearly. Her brown hair is tied up in a ponytail and her eyes are examining the machine next to me.

“Good because then I can tell him all about how you tried to stop me from doing my job.” She fires back without looking at him. “You can leave.”

“I’m not supposed to leave you alone with him. He’s supposed to be taken-”

She interjects, “I don’t care where he was supposed to go. He is my patient now, and I doubt that he is up to anything nefarious.” She turns towards him and repeats, “Leave.”

Just when I think that Jenkins won’t do as she instructs he does, the door of the infirmary closing behind him.

“Thank you.” I murmur. I mean to say it louder, but my voice comes off as a whisper.

“How are you feeling?” She asks, turning towards me putting on a fresh pair of gloves.

“Like a hundred bucks left in a pair of pants, and put in the washing machine.”

She smiles. “It seems you have a sense of humor. I’m going to take a closer look at your wound now, okay?”

I nod. Any help she can give me would be great. 

Her fingers glide across the surface of my injury almost painlessly. The touch still stings, but the pain doesn’t come close to what it was before.

Dr. Tancredi grabs something off the cart next to her. It looks a little like a needle, but then again I don’t have a medical license. I have no clue what the object is or what she plans to do with it. All I know is that if she wanted to hurt me she would’ve done it already, and she wouldn’t have given me medicine. It seems like I can trust her.

“I have something to ask you.” She says as she moves her hands to grab something else.

“Shoot.” I reply. I’m not exactly squeamish, but I’d rather distract myself with a little talk than focusing on what her hands are doing.

I turn my eyes to focus on her face only to see a frown form across it. “You didn’t get all these injuries from a fight, did you?”

I hesitate briefly before answering, “No.”

“And, uh…these marks” she places a couple of her fingers higher on my chest to rest on one of my more minor injuries, “they don’t look like they were done by a human hand, but some sort of tool. One usually used by the guards.”

Please, don’t ask me.

“If they’re hurting you, you can tell me.” She says, her voice gentle as she speaks as if she recognizes the position I’d be in by telling her.

I gulp nervously before saying, “No.”

“No, you can’t tell me or no nothing’s going on?” She asks, catching onto the apparently obvious way I was trying to avoid the question.

“Please, don’t ask me anymore.”

“Why not?”

I sigh before replying, “I don’t like lying to people who’ve helped me, and I can’t tell you the truth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The character of Dr. Tancredi was taken from Prison Break. I wanted to give Jughead someone to give him a little bit or relief and felt that she was the perfect person.


	17. Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all like this chapter.

**Betty**

Death. The word repeats over and over in my head. Death. Death. Death.

I feel like crying. I feel like curling into a ball, and leaving this world behind. This world where the monsters are free and the innocent….a world where Jughead is behind bars about to be put to death. In a matter of weeks, the court system, heck the entire city of Riverdale will cause the man I love to breathe his last breath. When did this world become so messed up?

“Betty.”

I can’t hear the word over my own thoughts.

When did the world we knew as children change to what it is now? The kind of world where a man is sentenced to die after sacrificing himself. The kind of world where the man I love is taken from me. A kind of world that bleeds hardship.

“Betty.”

Pressure squeezes my chest so hard I feel like I’m being crushed. All I can think about is Juggie no longer breathing. His eyes staring blank and unseeing; almost as mine are right now. I’m staring at the pages before me with green orbs that seem to be failing me in their task; or maybe it’s my mind. Blurry. Unfocused. Heartbroken. Every word on the page seems to be spiraling/swirling/mixing with each other. I can’t seem to read clearly a single sentence.

My friends and I have been at this for hours and exhaustion is becoming a real problem. My eyes are starting to droop, and my head feels heavy. Researching juvenile law is the opposite of caffeine to my consciousness, but I have to do something and every second I waste is one second closer to his execution.

I can’t lose him. 

“Betty!” Archie shouts and the pieces of paper in front of me disappear instantly out of my view.

A weak spurt of anger warms me. “What!?”

“I’m sorry.” Archie responds quietly, the sheets of paper dangling from his fingers loosely. “I couldn’t think of anything else to get your attention.”

“Yeah, B. You’ve been zoning out for the last hour.” Veronica’s warm hand rests on my shoulder offering comfort.

Which is something I don’t want. Comfort doesn’t solve anything. I do. I’m the Nancy Drew of Riverdale, and one thing is certain: I’m not going to go down without a fight. He still has his appeal, and I still have my friends to help me find answers. I still have hope; no matter how bleak things seem. I have to.

“Sorry, guys. I’ve just been trying to focus.” I rub my fingers over my tired eyes. “I’m not giving up, guys. He is not allowed to die. I just have to figure things out before…”I swallow before finishing my sentence, “before they kill him.”

They exchange a look before nodding solemnly.

Archie’s hand falls to his side laying the papers in his hand down in a heap next to him on the couch. I can read the guilt and defeat on his face as if he’d said the words aloud. “And we will, Betty, it’s just- I need a break.” 

Hurt stabs through me. He can give up if he wants to, but I’m not going to throw in the towel. Not when we still have playing time left. I reach for the pages. My hand is stopped midflight by his. 

“Betty, stop.”

I shove his hand away and jump to my feet in a fit of rage. “Archie, you’re not the person I thought you were if you can abandon your best friend when he needs you the most! Jughead needs us!”

He looks hurt at the thought. “I’m not abandoning him.”

“You could’ve fooled me! Let me have those damn papers!” I grab at the sheets, desperation driving my movements forward. I’m inches away from them when someone pulls me back, and all of a sudden Archie has his arms wrapped around me.

“Archie! Let me have them!” I yell. A panic fueled urgency suddenly pulls at me making my breathing rapid and uneven. “Archie! Let me go!” 

“No.”

And it’s like that one word opens up the flood gate, rips open my very being as I struggle ineffectually against his unrelenting grasp. “Let me go!”

“No.”

“Let me go!” My voice comes out unexpectedly raspy as the back of my throat burns. Tears I hadn’t realized I was shedding clog the opening leaving my words distorted. “Let me goooo.”

“I’m sorry, but no.”

The word repeated somehow brings out all the emotions that have plagued me since the trial. I cry out as I fall to my knees, weeping unabashedly and uncontrollably. 

“B” Veronica walks up to me slowly and pulls my crying face into her shoulder.

“I’m not giving up on him. I can’t give up. I just can’t. I love him.”

Still holding me tight, Archie replies, “I know. I’m not saying stop. I’m asking you to take a break.”

“Yeah, B, you’re burning the candle at both ends. One day you will collapse. Jughead doesn’t want that, besides you ending up in the hospital won’t help him.” Veronica says as she rubs my back.

“I just don’t want to lose him.”

“I know, but getting some sleep isn’t a detriment. In the end, it will probably help you.” Archie advises.

“And Betty.” Veronica expresses with a pain in her voice I hadn’t expected, “We don’t want to lose him either.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The sound of the doorbell rings out loud and strong. I take a couple of deep breaths trying to steady my heart rate. I’m practically jumping up and down with excitement as I wait impatiently for the door to open. The gears in my mind have been working overtime for so long that I’m giddy with excitement. My hard work has finally paid off because I found something; the smoke and gun to bringing down Hiram and saving Jug.

I ring the doorbell again hoping that Mrs. Andrews will open the door already, so I can share the good news with the one person who can make the information I found work.

I hear someone walking around inside seconds before the door finally opens to a confused Mary Andrews.

“Betty, what are you doing here?” Mrs. Andrews asks, stepping aside and letting me inside the house. “Come in.”

I enter the house with the first smile I have had in weeks spread across my face. “I found something.”

“Something about the case? I thought you were taking a break.” Her voice almost sounds disappointed, but that can’t be right. I’m misjudging her tone. That’s it.

“I did for a few hours. I couldn’t sleep very well because I kept thinking about how Jughead is in a prison for adults, and it got me thinking that there are some laws that are different for minors. I started searching for cases where kids were accused of murder, and I found out that the judge’s ruling can’t stand if we appeal. It should never have been made in the first place.”

“Really? And that is because of what? ”She asks.

“A case in 2005 ruled the death penalty as unconstitutional for a juvenile.” I spew out the facts as fast as I can, barely taking in a breath in between sentences. “They can’t kill him. All we have to do is bring up the previous case in the appeal and they will have to stop the execution.”

“Betty, it’s a little more complicated than that.”

“What’s complicated about it? They can’t kill him. End of story. Goodbye. The end. Any questions? I should think not. This is a piece of cake.”

“Betty, it’s not going to work.” She insists.

My stomach drops. “Why not?”

“Because…” her voice trails off making me feel like she’s keeping something from me. She walks over to the kitchen and puts a pot of tea on the stove. “Because he is 17 they can try him as an adult.”

She comes back to the living room and sits down on the couch before adding, “It could take months to figure something out. He does get an appeal, but I don’t figure that it would do much good. He pleaded guilty and that isn’t something we can change.”

My heart clenches inside my chest. “Do you want him to die?”

She looks at me hurt in her eyes. “Of course not. Why would you think that?”

“Because you seem to be against every single option I’ve brought up. Not to mention, you’re supposed to be his lawyer. You’re supposed to know all the answers. You’re supposed to be the one trying to help him, instead-” I try to stop myself before I say something that I might regret, but I can’t help the spurt of anger inside me. I slam my fists on the table in front of me and yell, “You’re the one who let him plead guilty!”

I shake my head. “He trusted you, and you let him down.”

A long period of silence follows between us. All the emotions I had bottled up against her had been released, and she didn’t seem able to respond. That is until she did.

“I know. I know I did. Every day since the trial I can’t help, but question whether there was something more I could have done. Something I didn’t see. Something I could’ve said.”

She runs her hands through her hair as her expression shifts into different emotions. It’s as if she is fighting a war within herself that I can’t see. “I’ll talk to the judge; see if he can postpone the execution so we can have time for an appeal. The information you found will come in handy then. We just have to buy enough time to use it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think. I hope that I do these characters justice every chapter.


	18. Game Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for this taking so long. I work at a grocery store, so I've been pulling a lot of hours since the quarantine started. I will try not to take so long in between updates. Thank you all for the comments and kudos. They really make my day and I love to hear what people think. I tend to be very critical of my writing. 
> 
> Also, let me know in the comments what has been your favorite chapter or line so far.

**Jughead**

I wake up in agony. The small reprieve I had is gone as the once dull pain in my stomach flickers to life again. My hands try to move toward the injury to find that the movement is impossible as the cold feeling of iron seeps into my restrained wrists. Suddenly aware of the change of situation my eyes fly open, my head spinning as my vision slowly comes back. I’m no longer in the infirmary, but back on the gritty floor of my solitary little cell with gray dots swirling in front of my eyes, and something else as well. Well, someone else is watching me.

“It’s about time you’re awake. I’ve been waiting for you to come to for hours now, and was just starting to wonder how much sedative the doctor gave you. She was against me moving you, and wanted to keep giving you pain medication, but I overruled her. She gave you the sedative to save you a bit more pain.” Hiram Lodge announces to me from his chair. “Not that she will be an issue any longer. She has been dealt with, and will no longer be helping you.”

I swallow against the sudden dryness in my throat. “What did you do to her?”

“You shouldn’t worry about her. After all, aren’t you the one who got stabbed?”

He didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to. He killed her because she helped me.

“She was kind.” I mumble, my heart feeling a little heavier than it was. If she hadn’t been nice to me; if she hadn’t helped me she’d still be alive.

“Yes, well, at least she did one thing right. She kept you alive. It would have been a shame to have you die already.” Hiram stands up and takes off his jacket before rolling the sleeves on his shirt up.

“In any case, I’ve wanted to kill you painfully for a while, so I’ve been looking at the different types of methods. It’s a shame I have to stick with the government issued ones. I do after all, have to maintain your death as state ordered, and lethal injection is the most common. Oh, well. At least you will die, and I can do whatever I want before then.” He chuckles rolling his head in a circle popping his neck, “Thank you, by the way, for allowing me to continue what I started with you.”

He grabs me arm and pulls me up to my feet hard. I sway on the spot. The only reason I stay standing is his tight grip on me.

“I want to play a game.” He reaches in his pocket and to my surprise pulls out a key. “You are going to try to hit me. If you manage to get in a strike you can have something to eat. If you don’t, well, that slop that we’ve been giving you will be the only thing coming your way.”

“What if I don’t want to play?” I don’t believe for one second that he doesn’t have some ulterior motive, and there is a very little chance I have of staying on my feet for any significant period of time. Landing a punch on someone as experienced at fighting as Hiram might as well be turning water into wine. I have zero chance.

“Oh, you will. There is no option, Juggie.” He says using the nickname that Betty calls me. “My little gift to you before the hearing could very easily be broken.”

A bitter taste appears in my mouth when I realize that he is going to do something to Betty if I don’t do what he says. I’ve done everything he’s asked me to. I pleaded guilty to two murders. I don’t fight back against anything the guards have done to me. I’ve been kicked, punched, slapped, and just plain out beaten down over and over; yet, he keeps asking for more. When is it going to be enough?

“Stop threatening Betty.” I bite back pushing his hands off me as pent up anger floods through me.

He shoves me to the floor easily, pressing his shoe into my gut when I try to get back up. Pain shoots into me from the action leaving me temporarily breathless.

He spits from above me, leaning in closer. “I’ll do whatever I want to, Jughead. You can’t stop me. You can’t even protect yourself, and even if you could you’re on the other side of the law now. While you’re in here I could have Betty beaten. I could have her raped. I could have dozens of men lining up to put their precious family jewels into her while she weeps unable to stop as they force themselves into her broken and shattered body.” 

I tremble as pain slices into me more agonizing than any physical pain I could endure. His words are intentionally cruel. As vile as anything I can come up with, but that doesn’t stop them from being true. He has all the power here, and if something did happen to her it would be all my fault.

I’m close to tears as Hiram adds “You should want to keep on my good side.”

As much as I don’t want to obey him he’s right. Staying on his good side is the only thing I can do from in here, and I have to do everything I can to save her. I love her.

He removes his foot from my stomach, and asks, “Are you going to protect your precious Betty?”

I force myself to my feet. “I’ll play any game you want. I’ll do anything you ask. Please, just don’t hurt her.” I say my voice cracking at my plea.

“Good.” Hiram says as he removes my restraints, and steps to the center of the room.

I rub my blood stained wrists, and flex my fingers to get the blood flowing again. It feels like forever since the metal was practically ingrained into my skin. The red marks around my wrists are proof of that.

“Come at me Jughead.” He beckons with his outstretched hand, his feet spread apart in what I can assume is a defensive position. I don’t know a whole lot about fighting other than what I’ve learned from the streets. The only thing I’m intimately familiar with in this sort of context is how to take a beating. I’m pretty sure this is going to hurt, but I step up to the plate anyways.

My first attempt at a strike goes straight for Hiram’s face, but with speed I didn’t realize he possesses he dodges my blow with a side-step and counters with a solid hit square in my gut. The air whooshes out of my lungs, and I drop to my knees the pain doubling me over. I imagine it wouldn’t be as painful as it is if I hadn’t been stabbed. Hot blood from my now open stitches flows freely as fiery waves pierce me.

“Is that all you’ve got Jughead?” I barely hear him say over the wheezing in my chest.

Still trying to catch my breath I slowly make my way back to my feet. I raise my fists again and lunge forward towards my enemy, but once again I’m too slow.

One second Hiram’s there the next I feel a blow to the back of my head as his elbow hits me viciously sending me to the ground. 

“Up!” He commands, and once more I painfully manage to stand; only this time Hiram doesn’t wait for me to catch my breath. He doesn’t wait for my attempt. He moves right back in, jabbing me brutally in the ribs before slamming his fist into my jaw.

I’m on the ground again, spitting up blood, gasping for air.

I grimace at the pain pulling myself up on shaky legs over and over as Hiram uses me, being deliberately cruel in the way he strikes, intending to cause pain with every blow and leave little respite.

My cheek splits, and my left eye swells under the impact of his knuckles, but the worst pain is due to the stab wound in my side. Every time it gets hit I feel like curling up in complete agony, my vision blurs, and I scream as the pain blasts through me like lightning.

Pure desperation forces me to continue for as long as I can.

The seventh time I fall to the ground I try to get up, stumbling when my legs buckle underneath me. I can’t stop myself from collapsing to the ground. I try to push myself up by my arms, but fail, my arms crumpling halfway through.

I feel broken, defenseless, so aware of my helplessness as he yanks me up, holding me upright only to punch me in the face causing blood to gush from my nose. My head sags against my chest, all my energy gone.

“So weak.” Hiram says as he drops me to the ground. “I wonder what she sees in you. Pathetic.”

Hiram walks out the door leaving me a bloody mess on the ground. I hear him order the guard just outside the door, “Cuff him.”

I grit my teeth when the metal goes around my raw skin, but I stay on the ground. My worn out body won’t move and there is no point to trying. I focus on breathing, my eyes closing and my breath hitching at a particularly painful throb when I accidentally inhale too deeply. It hurts, but it’s nothing I haven’t felt before.

It’s kind of sad really. I’m getting used to pain. I don’t know if that’s a good thing. Maybe it makes it easier to take, maybe it doesn’t.

All I know is that my next couple of days is filled with it. The beatings I’ve gotten used to. I’ve had them ever since I was arrested, but the other stuff. If I’d known what was going to come my way I would’ve- No. Not even then. I still would’ve pleaded guilty despite the torture I will go through. In time, I will learn that a beating is nothing compared to what I will experience in just a matter of days. The first of which is right around the corner.


	19. Luckiest?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The person who usually reads my writing before I post it hasn't been able to read it yet, but this chapter has been done for at least a week so I figured I should put it up. I hope it's okay. It was a hard chapter to write, I just loved the idea so much. Don't hate me and sorry Jug.

**Jughead**

The door slams open with a loud bang, the volume shocks my senses and causes my good eye to flinch open. It’s been a couple of days since Hiram’s game, but my left eye remains swollen shut leaving me partially blind to the bull charging at me.

“Get up!” Hiram shouts grabbing my shirt, and hauling me to my feet. He’s huffing and puffing, shaking uncontrollably like a pot of water. “Your girl is starting to piss me off. She stepped up her game and got the court to postpone your execution.”

Really? Betty did that. A sense of delight and pride floods into me despite the circumstances surrounding my imminent future. I know that my girlfriend is smart, talented, brilliant, kind, and a whole host of things that are amazing, but convincing a court to suspend an execution seems like it would be on an entirely different level. And to think, no matter how hard it was to accomplish, she did it all for me.

No matter what happens I am the luckiest guy on the planet.

Hiram Lodge; however, is completely unaware of my emotional improvement as he looks me up and down with eyes glazed over from rage.” If only she could see the damage her actions will cause.”

I bite back a retort. I doubt her actions would cause him to do anything to me he wasn’t already doing. My entire body is sore and hurt from his actions already. Pain is nothing new, but my stomach drops, the look in his eyes foretells something more sinister.

Hiram releases his hold on my shirt. I drop to my knees wincing at the pain as my knees slam against the solid floor.

“Take off his shirt and hold him down.” Hiram commands to a handful of guards entering the cell.

I don’t fight as my shirt is torn from me and I’m forced to the ground. The guards tighten the chains to the floor so that there is no slack.

Hiram comes to stand before me and grabs a handful of my hair. “I own you Jughead.”

He signals to a guard who steps closer with a glowing red-hot metal bar in his hands.

I haven’t fought against anything Hiram has done to me. Not when he beats me into oblivion, and certainly not when he has spit in my face no matter how frustrating it is to be helpless, to not take action. But when I see the tool something in me snaps. I twist against the holds on me trying to get away. The chains do an admirable job at stopping most of my movement. The little progress I make is taken away though, as Hiram places his knees onto my side turning my already throbbing ribs into a howl of agony.

“Please, don’t” I beg as fear overtakes me.

He gives me another smile and replies, “begging doesn’t suit you, Jughead”.

A second later, the scorching hot metal slams into my chest and I scream as the bar carves into me. When the rod reaches the stab wound in my side the pain becomes even more excruciating as it digs into my skin and causes even more blood to spill. I’m screaming so much my throat becomes raw. I’m in more pain than I have ever been in my life as the smell of scorched skin fills the air.

What feels like hours, but in reality is only seconds later, the metal is removed. The pressure lets up but the searing anguish doesn’t as the weight of my tormentor leaves me and the chains are loosened. I heave as I try to breathe in and out; my vision distorts.

A small whimper escapes the confines of my mouth, and tears trail down my cheeks. I close my eyes shut trying to block it all out; however, numbness eludes me as fire lights up my insides.

I barely hear Hiram order, “Only give him water from now on. He won’t be alive long enough to need food" before Hiram and his guards leave me alone bleeding and burned with the knowledge that he branded me like cattle. My entire body shakes from the torturous agony as I try to sit up. I don’t succeed. My body won’t let me move off the floor and I succumb to darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think about this story and if you have any favorite parts. Comments and kudos make my day.   
Oh, and next chapter is more Betty.


	20. Pops

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kudos. Kudos and comments make my day.  
I hope that you will all enjoy this chapter.

**Betty**

“The execution has been postponed.” I announce from across our favorite table at Pops a grin spreading across my face that not even an earthquake could wipe away.

Veronica beams at me. “That’s great!”

“Yeah, it is. How did you manage that?” Archie asks, an astonished look on his face.

“Actually, your mom was the one who accomplished it, Arch. She contacted a judge and told him that the verdict should never have been made since Jug is a minor.” I smile at the memory. Mrs. Andrews fought for Jughead like a lioness protecting her cub. It was amazing to watch. “You should have heard her on the phone. She was a force to be reckoned with.”

“So Jughead’s going to be freed?” Archie questions, his eyebrows furrowed up in concentration. I can tell he doesn’t understand very much about the law, and his naivety shines through.

“Not exactly.” I let lose a sigh, running my fingers through my ponytail-less hair. “This doesn’t prove his innocence.”

My friend looks at me like he missed something. “Then why are we happy? Jug is still behind bars.”

“Because, Archiekins, this gives us time. Right B?” Veronica explains, gripping a french fry between her own manicured fingers and placing it in her mouth delicately.

The refined way in which she eats is so unlike Jughead who would shove fries into his mouth, and devour them off his plate almost as fast as he would his favorite burger. He would often make some sort of joke at his own expense about how food was his one true love before grinning and me, whispering in my ear, and giving me a quick peck on the lips.

Oh, how I miss him. He should be here with us. He could steal all the fries off my plate if only he would show up, place his arm around my shoulders, and look at me with his twinkling eyes.

I didn’t realize I was staring off into space until Veronica’s voice rings out my name. “Betty?”

I shake my head a little letting the memories fade before responding. “Right. You’re right, V. This means we have time to make Jug’s appeal as compelling as we can. We need to overturn his conviction not just postpone it.”

I turn to look at Jug’s spot next to me, empty and void of any warmth it once held, feeling my best friends’ eyes still on me. I make myself look at them as I proclaim, “I’m not resting until Jughead is sitting with us in this booth again, eating burgers, and drinking milkshakes.”

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I leave the diner by myself after having a surprising amount of coffee. In fact, I wasn’t sure anyone but Jug could intake such an amount, but I’ve always been an overachiever and a coffeeholic. The caffeine didn’t really bother me, and these days I have had plenty of nights just like this one where the research took me to a realm where time didn’t seem to exist. I got into a habit where time would pass by so fast I wouldn’t even realize how late it was. Tonight, is no exception.

I know, not the greatest idea in Riverdale to walk around by myself at night, but then again I don’t have a lot of options and it’s not the first time I’ve walked home alone. I’ve never felt the need to call someone to pick me up, so why would tonight be any different?

A chill sweeps through me, and I can’t seem to help but think that a car ride would at least be warmer if not safer. I pull Jug’s jacket around my frame tighter hoping to keep the cold away. Ever since he was arrested I’ve felt comfort in wearing his clothes; his shirt, his jacket, even his pajamas. The smell of him wrapped around me could make even the darkest of nights feel less lonely and more secure.

I’m not a damsel in distress though. I can usually pull myself out of helpless situations, but I do feel safer with Jughead. My boyfriend has never failed to make me feel safe. Which is exactly what I find myself wishing for as a hand slips over my mouth, and another grabs me from behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the cliffhanger. Hopefully, I can post the next chapter soon. I'm going to try to post it sometime next week if I can find time to write.  
Let me know what you think is going to happen and any other thoughts you have.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think. I hope that I can do these characters justice.


End file.
